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PRINCETON,   N.  .J. 


SAMUEL    A  G  N  E  ^V , 


O  r      1"  II  I  I.  A  1>  F.  L  P  11  1  A  .     PA. 


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is  . 


THE  DOCTRINES 
HEATHEN  PHILOSOPHY 


COMPARED    WITH    THOSE 

of 
REVELATION. 


THE   DOCTRINES 

of 

HEATHEN  PHILOSOPHY, 

compared 
WITH  THOSE  OF 

REVELATION 


BY  JOSEPH  PRIESTLEY,  l.  l.  d.   f.  r.  s. 


PRINTED    BY    JOHN    BINNS. 


1804. 


DEDICATION. 

TO    THE 

REVEREND  JOSEPH  BERINGTON, 

a  Catholic  Priest  In  England^ 

AND    TO    THE 

RIGHT  REVEREND  WILLIAM  WHITE, 

a  Bishop  of  the  Episcopalian  Church    in  the 
United  States. 


Gentlemen, 


Y^ 


OU  will,  I  doubt  not,  be  surprized  at  my  de- 
dication of  any  work  of  mine  to  you,  differing  so 
much  as  we  do  in  our  sentiments  concerning  chris- 
tianit}-.  But,  entertaining  the  highest  respect  for 
your  characters,  as  men  and  as  christians,  I  do  it 
because  we  differ;  to  shc.y,  with  respect  to  a  sub- 
ject in  which  we  are  equally  interested,  as  in  that 
of  this  work  that  I  regard  all  that  bear  the  christi- 
an name,  how  widely  distant  soever  their  different 

a  ii.  churches 


a  DEDICATION. 

churches  and  creeds  ma}-  be,  as  friends  and  breth- 
ren, and  therefore  entitled,  by  the  express  directi- 
on of  our  common  SaAiour,  lo  piu'ticalai-  respect 
and  attention  as  such. 

Though  few  persons  have  written  more  than 
ni}  self  to  controvert  the  established  principles  of 
each  of  }^our  churches,  I  consider  the  articles  in 
which  wc  all  atjree  as  of  infinitely  more  moment 
than  those  with  respect  to  \\  hich  we  differ.  We 
all  believe  in  the  being,  the  perfections,  the  uni- 
versal providence,  and  the  righteous  mor  1  govern- 
ment of  God,  as  the  maker  and  sovereign  disposer 
of  all  things.  \Vhatever  we  may  think  of  the  per- 
son of  Christ,  we  all  believe  tliat  his  doctrine  is 
divine,  and  his  precepts  obligatory  upon  all.  We 
all  believe  in  his  miracles,  his  death,  his  resurrecti- 
on, andhis  ascension,  as  related  in  the  books  of  the 
New  Testament.  We  also  all  belie\e  that  he  will 
come  again,  to  raise  all  the  dead,  to  judge  the  world, 
and  to  give  to  every  man  according  to  his  works  ; 
and  these  are  all  the  articles  of  faith  that  can  have  any 
considerable  influence  on  the  lives  and  conduct  of 
men.  Belie^^ng  this,  our  gratitude  for  the  com- 
munication of  knowledge  of  such  infinite  impor- 
tance must  be  common  to  us  all.  ^"d  such  as^hould 

'ead 


DEDICATION.  iii 

lead  to  a  chearful  obedience  to  all  the  commands 
of  God. 

I  know  that  the  creeds  of  both  your  established 
churches  doom  me,  and  all  that  are  out  of  their 
pale,  as  discarding  some  particular  articles  of  your 
faith,  to  perish  everlastingly,  notwidistanding  every 
thing  that  we  may  believe,  or  do.  But  I  know 
that  the  candid  and  liberal  of  all  persuasions  arc 
provided  with  some  salvo  for  the  conscientious 
heretic.  But  whatever  may  be  your  opinion  with 
respect  to  me,  which  I  knovv^  \\\\[  be  as  favourable 
as  you  can  make  it,  I  have  no  doubt  but,  if  I  ever 
do  get  to  heaven,  I  shall  meet  with  both  of  30U 
there.  In  that  state  our  minds  will  be  so  much 
enlightened,  that  the  bigotry  Avhich  has  contribut- 
ed so  much  to  the  miseries  of  this  life,  but  which 
has,  at  the  same  time,  licen  a  valuable  exercise 
of  christian  candour,  will  no  longer  exist.  With 
respect  to  myself,  the  time  in  which  ^y^ry  thinp*  of 
this  kind  will  be  cleared  up,  and  no  doubt  to  uni- 
versal satisfaction,  cannot  be  very  distant  ;  and  the 
difference  between  my  opiriion,  that  it  will  be  af- 
ter an  interval  of  rest  in  the  grave,  and  yours  th.it 
it  v/ill  take  place  with  respect  to  each  individual 
immediately  after  his  death,  cannot  be  thought  of 
much  moment,  by  those  wa;)   believe  they  shall 

live  for  ever  after  it. 

a  iii.  With 


iv  E>'X)ICATIOX. 

AMtli  the  highest  esteem  for  your  pcrsonul  cha- 
racters, though  you  arc  probably  unkno\\n  tr» 
each  otlier. 

I  am  Gentlemen, 

Your  brother  in  the  faith, 
and  hope  of  the  Gospel. 

J.  PRIESTLEY. 
Northu  mberland  1 804. 


PREFACE. 


WHEN  I  wrote  the  Pamphlet  entitled  Socrates 
and  Jesus  Compared^  which  I  was  led  to  do  fi-om 
the  perusal  of  Xeiiophon's  Memorabilia,  in  order 
to  form  a  more  distinct  idea  than  I  then  rctamed  of 
the  subjects  and  the  manner  of  the  teaching  of  So- 
crates, and  from  seeing  his  character  in  a  diiTercnt 
light  from  that  in  which  it  had  bee«  usually  re- 
presented, I  had  no  thoughts  of  doing  any  cbing 
more  in  the  same  way.  But  my  friends  in  gene- 
ral approving  of  the  pamphlet,  and  seeing  in  the 
same  light  with  myself  the  great  superiority  v»  hich 
it  exhibited  of  the  character  and  teaching  of  Jesus 
to  that  of  this  most  moral,  and  most  celebrated,  of 
all  the  Grecian  philosophers,  I  was  urged  to  give  a 
similar  view  of  all  the  Grecian  moralists,  con:ipar- 
ing  their  principles  with  those  of  revelation  in  f^-e- 
neral. 

At  first  diis  appeared  to  me  too  great  an  under- 
taking at  my  age,  and  with  increasing  infirmities* 
But  finding  that  my  library,  notwithstandiiig  the 
a  iv.  destruction 


vi  PREFACE. 

dcbtnictlou  ofu  tp-cat  part  of  it  at  the  riots  in  rJir- 
minghain,  \\a.s  bO  fur  restored  as  to  contain  almoit 
every  book  that  I  wanted  for  the  puq^ose,  hm-ing  a 
predileclion  for  die  Mork,  and  abniidant  leisure  in 
my  present  retired  situation,  I  reperused  tlie  \\  rit- 
ings  of  all  the  Grecian  moralists  that  have  come 
to  us,  making  all  the  extracts  that  I  thought  ne- 
ecissarv,  a!id  then  composed  the  difiercnt  paits  of 
the  work  \viti\  v/hich  I  nov/  present  the  reader ; 
It  uas  hoAvcver  not  done  in  the  order  in  w  hich  tJiey 
are  now  arranged,  but  as  they  appeared  to  me  of 
the  most  importance,  giving  directions  to  ni}-  son, 
that  if  I  div-^d  before  the  work  ^vas  compleated,  he 
would  publish  what  I  had  iinished ;  having  taken 
the  precan  'ion  to  transcribe,  and  prepare  for  the 
jjress.,  each  of  the  separate  parts  before  I  under- 
look  anv  other.  In  this  manner,  with  much  more 
case,  and  I  will  add,  more  to  my  satisfaction,  than 
I  expected,  I  compleated  my  design. 

My  labour  w  as  the  shorter,  as  I  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  l(»gic,  the  metaphysics,  or  the  physics, 
of  the  writeis  all  equally  trifling  and  absurd,  but 
only  with  such  passages  in  their  writings  as  related 
to  the  being,  die  attributes,  and  tlie  providence  of 
God,  their  sentiments  concerning  the  human  soul, 
ind  especially  its  destination  after  dcadi,  and  tlicir 

geueial 


PREFACE.  vii 

general  principles  of  morals.  For  with  these  sub- 
jects only  codld  they  be  brought  into  comparison 
with  the  doctrines  o^  the  scriptures.  Also,  my 
comparison  extended  no  farther  than  till  Christia- 
nity became  the  religion  of  the  Roman  Emperors. 
For  after  this  the  tenets  of  the  philosojihers  and 
those  of  the  christians  v.ere  strangely  mixed,  so 
that  it  might  be  said  they  borrowed  from  eacli  o- 
ther.  I  have  therefore  confined  myself  to  the  pe- 
riod in  which  they  were  entirely  separate.  For 
though  after  the  promulgation  of  Christianity  the 
heathen  philosophers  had  sufficient  opportunity  of 
acquainting  themselves  with  its  principles,  tlicy 
appear  to  have  been  entirely  ignorant  of  them,  or 
to  have  given  litde  attention  to  them.  Tiiis  ap- 
pears to  me  to  have  been  the  case  with  Marcus 
Antoninus,  and  others  who  lived  long  enough  af- 
ter the  time  of  Christ.  If  they  had  any  know- 
ledge of  christian  principles,  their  bias  was  rather 
against  than  in  favour  of  them. 

There  are  several  subdivisions  of  the  Grecian 
philosophers  which  I  have  not  noticed,  but  they 
were  such  as  made  only  some  small  variation  in 
some  of  the  general  systems  of  which  I  have  gi^-en 
a  particular  account.  I'he  most  considerable  of 
them  were  Sceptics,  and  the  Academics ;  but  they 
a  V.  advanced 


viii  PREFACE. 

advanced  nothing  new,  and  only  doubted,  and  dis- 
puted, in  diiTcrentways  about  thcpositions  of  others. 
For  a  more  particular  account  of  all  the  Grecian 
philosophers  than  it  was  to  my  purpose  to  give,  I 
refer  the  reader  to  the  excellent  History  of  Philo- 
sophy  by  Dr.  Enfield^  most  judiciously  compiled 
from  the  tla!)orate  \\ork  of  Brucker.  As  the  sen- 
timents of  the  Grecian  j)hilosophers  have  been  re- 
presented  \'cry  differentl}-,  by  writers  m ho  had  dif- 
ferent views  in  charaeterizing  them,  I  thought  it 
nccessar\  to  give  numerous  extracts  from  their  o^\i\ 
>\'orks ;  so  that  the  reader  may  be  confident  that  I 
have  not  made  any  mistvike  of  importance  in  7ny 
account  of  them. 

I  once  thought  of  adding  another  part,  on  the 
sentiments  of  Cicero,  forthouglihe  was  the  found- 
er of  no  sect,  he  A\as  ^^ell  acquainted  with  the 
principles  of  them  all,  and  no  doubt  made  his  se- 
lection of  those  w  hich  he  most  ajiprovcd.  But  be- 
sides th?.t  dicre  is  nothing  of  his  oun  in  any  thing 
he  has  advanced  on  the  scAcral  subjects,  it  is  not 
easy  to  ascertain  what  his  real  sentiments  were. 
His  preference  may  in  general  be  pretty  \\cll  dis- 
tinguished amon;^  the  different  speakers  in  his  dia- 
loc:ueb  ;  l)ut  it  was  too  great  an  object  with  him  to 
cmbeliisl)  ^\  hate\  er  he  undertool^  to  defend ;  so 

that 


PREFACE  ix 

that  there  is  often  more  of  the  orator,  than  of  the 
philosopher,  even  in  his  philosophical  works. 

I  can  by  no  means  persuade  myself  to  tliiiik  so 
highly  of  the  religious  sentiments  of  Cicero,  and 
of  their  having  been  the  real  principles  of  his  con- 
duct, as  Dr.  Middleton  does.  He  gives  him  every 
thing  that  is  most  essential  in  chrislianit}',  or  what 
was  by  himself  thought  to  be  so  ;  and  among  the 
rest  a  belief  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  aiid  its 
separate  existence  in  a  state  of  happiness  or  mise- 
ry after  death ;  ^\■hereas  he  expressly  says  there 
could  hardly  be  found  a  foolish  old  yronian  w  ho 
feared  what  had  formerly  been  believed  of  the 
dreadful  things  in  the  shades  belou\  De  Natu- 
ra  deorum.  (Lib.  ii.  cap.  2.)  Yet  on  this  subject, 
among  others,  Middleton  says.  ( Life  of  Cicero 
Vol.  Hi.  p  lAfd.J  "  that  Cicero  has  largely  and 
*'  clearly  declared  his  mind  in  many  parts,  of  his 
"  writings."  Any  person,  however,  may  see  in 
Dr.  Middleton's  work  a  large  account  of  what  is 
contained  in  the  writings  of  Cicero  on  this  subject  j 
and  to  tliis  elaborate,  entertaining,  and  truly  valu- 
able work  I  refer  the  reader. 

I  have  litde  doubt,  but  that  the  opinion  expressed 
by  Caesar,  in  his  speech,  as  given  by  Sallust,  in 

the 


X  PREFACE. 

the  debate  concerning  the  punishment  of  the  Asso- 
ciates oi  Cataline,  vas  that  \vhich  was  maintained 
by  the  senators  in  general,  and  all  persons  of  rank 
and  education  at  Rome ;  as  it  \\as  not  delivered 
by  Cjcsar  as  his  own  in  particular,  but  evidently 
as  V.  h.at  he  apprehended  would  be  that  from  ^^hich 
his  hearers  would  not  dissent.  Cato,  ^\  ho  spake 
after  him,  did  not  express  any  disapprobation  of 
whc'it  lie  had  said.  Indeed  as  a  stoic,  he  could  not. 
Cicero  himself  was  present,  and  did  not  contra- 
dict him.  "  In  sorrow  and  distress,"  Caesar  said, 
"  Death  is  a  state  of  rest  from  all  trouble,  and  not 
*'  of  torment.  It  puts  an  end  to  all  the  evils  to 
*'  which  men  ai'e  subject,  and  beyond  it  there  is  no 
"  room  for  care  or  joy." 

The  result  of  the  whole  of  this  work,  even  to 
the  most  superficial  observer,  must  be  a  sense  of 
the  infinite  superiority  of  the  doctrines  of  Revela- 
tion, and  especially  of  those  of  Christianity,  to  those 
of  any  heathen  system  whatever ;  and  w'tth  this 
great  ad\'antage,  that  the  principles  of  revelation 
are  perfectly  intelligible  to  the  bulk  of  mankind, 
and  die  same  with  those  which  actually  influence 
men  in  the  common  conduct  of  life  ;  giving  them 
a  knowledge  of  what  they  have  to  hope  from  the 
practice  of  virtue,  and  what  tliey  have  to  feai-  in 

couse. 


PREFACE.  Ki 

consequence  of  vice.  Moreover,  these  rules  of 
life,  coming  Immediately  from  the  author  of  their 
being,  have  a  great  advantage  in  point  of  v/eight, 
and  authority,  far  more  than  any  inere  reasoning, 
though  ever  so  clear  and  satisfactory,  could  have 
given  them. 

Accordingly,  the  precepts  of  IMoses  were  not, 
like  the  teachings  of  the  Greek  philosophers,  con- 
fined to  a  fe^v,  but  calculated  for  the  use  of  the 
whole  nation,  the  lowest  as  much  as  the  highest 
among  them.  The  doctrines  and  precepts  of 
Christianity  are  also  equally  intelligible  to  all  man- 
kind ;  and  they  are  represented  as  of  equal  impor- 
tance and  concern  to  all,  the  slave  as  much  as  his 
master.  Such  a  plan  of  general  instruction  was  ne- 
ver practiced,  nor,  as  far  as  appears,  did  the  verv 
ideaof  it  ever  occur  to  any  of  the  Greek  moralists. 
The  lectures  of  the  philosophers  were  given  to  se- 
lect disciples,  who  generally  paid  for  their  instruc- 
tion. With  the  common  people  they  had  nothing 
to  do,  while  at  the  same  time  they  encouraged 
them  in  their  absurd  and  abominable  religious 
rites,  founded  on  that  polytheism  and  idolatry 
which  they  themselves  held  in  contempt ;  and  this 
was  founded  on  as  groundless  an  opinion  as  any 
that  was  ever  entertained  by  the  lowest  of  the  pco- 

ple» 


xH  PREFACE* 

p!e»  VIZ.  that  thcMeHlirc  of  the  state  depended  up- 
on the  observance  of  them. 

The  ottenlion  I  have  given  to  tliis  sul)ject  has 
increased  t'ne  sense  I  had  before  of  the  great  \  alue 
of  rtvelaiion  to  the  virtue  and  happiness  of  man- 
kiiid,  a::d  my  gratitude  to  die    universal  parent, 
that  I  was  bom  in   a  chiustian  country,  and  in  an 
age  so   njuch   enlightened  as  the  present.     I  re- 
joice also  that  1  have  been  led,  in  the  course  of 
liis  providence,  to  do  so  much  as  I  have  done  to- 
wards illustrating  and  defending  the  evidences  of 
revelation,  and  towards  purging  it  from  those  doc- 
trines and  practices  w  hich  were  discordant  v\  ith  it, 
and   prevented  its  reception   Mith   man}',     I  am 
willing  to  think  thiat  my  comparison  of  the  instituti- 
ons of  the  Hindoos^  and  other  antient  nations^  with 
t/iose  oj  Moses,  and  this   work,  which  extends  the 
comparison  to  all  the  sects  of  the  Grecian  philoso- 
phers, \\  ill  eminently  contribute  to  this  end.  Last- 
1}',  I  am  thankful  to  die  author  of  my  being  that 
my  life  lias  been  prolonged  so  far  as  to  have  been 
able  to  compleat  my  design.     I  could  not  ha\e 
closed  my  life  widi  more  satisfaction  than  after  a 
work  of  this  kind.     May  tlie  great  Lord  of  the  har- 
vest send  more,  more  zealous,  and  more  able,  la- 
bourers into  his  harvest.. 


THE 

Principles   of   the  Grecian 

PHILOSOPHY. 

[part   I.] 


ON 

The  state  of  religious  and  moral  prin- 
ciPLEs  IN   Greece  before  the 
TIME  OF  Pythagoras. 

INTRODUCTION. 

XN  comparing  the  moral  maxims  of  the  heathcji 
world  with  those  of  revelation,  a\  Inch  Is  the  object 
of  this  work,  it  is  desirable  to  go  as  far  back  as  we 
can,  with  any  sufficient  evidence,  ofwhat  men  real- 
ly thought  and  did ;  and  though  with  respect  to 
Greece  we  cannot  go  so  far  back  as  we  can  with  re- 
spect to  Hindostan,  and  other  oriental  nations,  '^ve 
have  two  early  WTiters  on  whom  we  may  depend, 
viz.  the  poets  Hesiod  and  Homer;  and  they 
flourished,  according  to  Ne\vton,  about  eight  hun- 
dred years  before  the  christian  aera : 

A,  We 


y.  THE     PRINCIPLES     0# 

We  have  also  a  poem  of  considerable  length, 
contaiiiing  precepts  for  the  conduct  of  life,  by 
Th  E  0  G  N I  s ,  which  does  not  appear  to  ha\e  suffered 
by  interpolation ;  and  he  flourished  more  than  four 
liundred  years  before  Christ ;  and  also  a  shorter  po- 
em of  Phocylides  of  the  same  age,  thought  by 
some  to  contain  christian  sentiments,  and  therefore 
to  have  been  interpolated  ;  we  have  also  a  collecti- 
on ofsayings  of  those  who  are  generally  called  Md* 
se^eti  wise  men  of  Greece,  who  lived  about  six  hun- 
dred years  before  Christ,  presen'cd  by  Diogenes 
Lacrtiu  s.  Thou  gh  all  these  are  not  of  equal  autho- 
rity, I  shall  quote  nothing  from  any  of  them  but 
what  will  appear,  by  a  comparison  with  others  the 
antiquity  of  which  is  unquestionable,  to  be  suffici- 
ently to  my  purpose. 

It  is  something  remarkable  that,  near  as  Greece 
is  to  Palestine  and  Egypt,  not  only  all  science,  pro- 
perly so  called,  but  a  knowledge  of  the  common 
and  most  useful  arts,  seems  to  have  been  unknown 
for  ages  in  that  couiUry,  "till  they  were  brought  to 
tliem  by  the  Phenicians  or  Egyptiiuis,  who  came  a- 
mong  them  to  find  settlements,  after  flying  from 
their  q>\w\  countries,  and  who  found  them  in  a  state 
of  the  greatest  barbaiism,  and  divided  into  a  great 

number 


THE    GRECIAM    PHILOSOPHY.  3 

number  of  clans  ;  for  nations  or  states  they  did  not 
deserve  to  be  called  ;  and  in  a  state  of  hostility  \\  ith 
each  other,  as  mankind  in  a  similar  situation  are  al- 
ways found  to  be. 

These  wandering  tribes  of  Greece,   shvillar  to 
those  in  North  America  at  present  (for  they  were  a 
lojig  time  in  no  better,   but  rather  in  a  ^\orsc  state 
with  respect  to  ciAilization,)  m.ust  no  doubt,  have 
had  some  notions  of  religion ;   since  no  pco]}Ie  in  die 
world  have  been  intirely  without  them ;  Init  wliat 
they  were  in  that  rude  state  of  the  country  it  is  im- 
possible to  trace.     The  sacred  rites  aiid  modes  of 
worship  that  we  find  accounts  of  in  their  \\  riters 
were  acknowledged  to  have  been  borrowed  from 
Egypt,  and  odier  countries.     And  even  this  ^vas  in 
so  early  a  period,  before  they  had  any  writers,  that 
the  observance  of  them  had  been  from  time  imme- 
morial ;  so  that  the  veneration  they  had  acquired 
from  their  antiquity  was  not  to  be  shaken. 

Whatever  they  were,  and  they  were  dlfFcrcnt  in 
every  part  of  the  countr}?-,  and  more  or  less  in  every 
different  town  and  hamlet,  they  w^re  supposed  to  ^ 
be  connected  with  the  well-being  of  the  place ;  so 
that  it  would  have  been  thought  hazardous  to  make 
any  change  in  them.  Nor  do  v.e  find  that  this  was 
A  2.  ever 


4  THE    PRINCIPLES    OF 

ever  done  in  any  heathen  countr}^  They  might  a- 
dopt  new  gods,  and  new  modes  of  ^^  orship,  but 
they  never  abandoned  their  own  antient  ones. 

This  partial  eiviUzation  of  Greece  must  have 
been  a  considerable  time  after  the  ^eatest  part  of 
the  kno^vledge  derived  from  revelation  had  been 
lost  in  the  East,  as  will  be  evident  to  any  person 
who  compares  what  he  finds  on  this  subject  in  the 
earliest  of  the  Greek  wTiters  with  the  book  of  Job, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  writings  of  Moses.  Job  and 
his  friends,  though  probably  not  themselves  favour- 
ed w  ith  any  revelation,  appear  to  have  had  a  clear 
knowledge  of  the  being,  and  the  righteous  govern- 
ment of  the  one  true  God,  the  maker  of  the  world, 
and  of  all  things  in  it,  and  also  of  a  future  state  of 
righteous  retribution.  At  least  so  it  clearly  ap- 
pears tome,  though  of  late,  and  only  of  late,  some 
christian  writers  Iiave  questioned  tliis.  But  how 
misembly  be^^  ildcred  were  the  wisest  of  the  Greeks 
Mith  respect  to  these  subjects.  Of  die  knowledge 
of  a  future  state,  on  the  only  principle  of  reason,  as 
well  as  re\elation,  ^iz.  that  of  a  proper  resurrection^ 
we  do  not  percei^ c  the  least  trace  among  them. 
Instead  of  tliis,  they  had  adopted  a  notion  of  a  sepa- 
rate  souij  or  a  ghosts  descending  after  deadi  into  a 

region 


THl    GRECIAN    PHILOSOPHY,  5 

region  below  the  surface  of  the  eai-th,  and  the  most 
absurd  fables  relating  to  their  condition  there; 
though  these,  do  not  appear  to  have  had  any  credit 
with  the  writers,  nor  probably  with  any  persons  of 
much  thought  and  reflection  among  them. 


Section   I. 

Of  the  Obligation  to  the  Worship  of  the  Gods  in 
general. 

The  general  and  established  opinion  of  a  superi- 
or power,  or  powers,  governing  the  affairs  of  the 
world  and  of  men,  and  the  obligation  that  men  were 
under  to  Morship  them,  according  to  the  customaiy 
rites  of  each  people,  was  uni^'ersal.     And  this  ^\-as 
not  only  the  persuasion  of  the  vulgar,  but  of  all  the 
writers  without  any  exception.     lu  a  later  period  it 
is  probable  enough  that  what  several  of  the  writers 
advance  on  this  subject  might  arise  from  a  Avish  not 
to  shock  the  prejudices  of  the  populace,  but  witli 
respect  to  the  period  of  which  I  am  now  treating, 
there  seems  to  be  no  reason  to  doubt  of  their  sincer- 
ity; the  precepts  on  this  subject  are  so  numerous, 
and  urged  in  so  emphatical  a  manner  by  them  all. 
The  obligation  to  worship  the  gods  is  urged  by  So- 
A  3.  Ion, 


6  THE     PRINCrrLES    OF 

loii,  one  of  whose  sayings  \\as,  "  honour  the  gods, 
Tcver-  ence  thy  parents." 

Nor.e  of  tlie  seven  wise  men  of  Greece,  ea:i  be 
said  to  liave  been  ^Titers,  and  therefore  we  have  not 
sufficient  authority  for  iheir  real  opinions.  But 
Theognis  imd  Phoc)  lides  m  ere  ;  and  in  the  poem 
of  the  former,  we  find  (^ .  170.)  "  Pray  to  the  gods 
"  \\lio  have  great  power,  for  \\  itliout  the  gods  men 
"  have  neither  good  nor  evil."  Here  we  see  the 
belief  of  tliis  writer  in  the  pro^idence,  as  well  as  in 
the  existence,  of  the  gods ;  but  we  shall  have  more 
abundant  evidence  of  this  hereafter.  Phocylides 
s:ivs(v.  7.)  "  In  the  first  place  Avorship  die  gods, 
"  then  honour  thy  parents,  judge  no  man  unjusUy, 
"  for  afterwards  God  will  judge  thee."  Indeed, 
Vv  hat  this  poet  says  of  God  may  w  ith  some  reason  be 
suspected  to  have  been  drawn  from  tlie  principles 
of  revelation,  and  therefore  to  be  an  interpolation. 
For  he  says,  v.  48,  *'  There  is  one  God,  w  ise,  pow- 
"  crful,  and  self  sufficient." 

Hesiod,  tl:ough  in  liis  Theogony  he  retails  all 
the  Grecian  fables  concerning  the  origin  and  de- 
scent of  tlie  gods,  all  of  wliom  he  derives  from  the 
^'<7;7/?,  which  was  therefore  prior  to  tliem  all,  }-et  his 
poem  intided  On  Ji'orks  contains  excellent  senti- 
ments 


THE    GRECIAN     PHILOSOPHY.  7 

ments,  and  good  ad\'ice  on  this  subject,  as  well  as 
on  many  others.  Addressing  his  brother,  he  says, 
(Lib.  I.  V  334.)  "  According  to  thy  ability,  sacii- 
*'  ficc  to  tlie  immortal  gods  morning  and  evening, 
*'  that  they  may  shew  thee  favour,  and  that  thou  may- 
"  est  purchase  the  possesions  of  others,  and  others 
"  not  purchase  tliine.  Pray  (Lib.  U.  v.  84.)  to  Ju- 
"  piter  and  Ceres,  that  you  may  have  a  good  in- 
*'  crease."  According  to  Hesiod  Jupiter  destroy- 
ed a  whole  race  of  men,  because  they  did  not  give 
due  honour  to  the  gods,  (Lib.  L  v.  138.) 

Many  of  Hesiod's  precepts  relating  to  religion, 
and  the  business  of  husbandly  too,  savour  of  a  ridi- 
culous superstition ;  but  at  tiiis  we  cannot  wonder, 
considering  in  how  earl)^  and  ignorant  an  age  he 
lived.  *'  Do  not,"  says  he  (Lib.  IL  v.  343.) 
"  make  libation,  to  Jupiter  with  unwashen  hands, 
"  nor  to  the  other  immortal  gods ;  for  they  will  not 
"  hear,  but  abominate,  such  prayers."  His  poem 
On  Days  contains  hardly  any  diing  besides  directi- 
ons of  the  most  superstitious  and  absurd  kind,  but 
his  two  books  On  IVorks  contain  many  excellent 
precepts,  botli  of  morality,  and  coramon  pru- 
dence. 

A  4.  Sect  I- 


THE    FRINCIPLES    OF 


Section  II. 

Of  the  Superiority  of  Jupiter^  the  principal  God  of 
the  Greeks. 

Notwithstanding  the  polytheism  of  the  Greeks, 
they  retained  so  much  of  the  primitive  doctrine  of 
one  supreme  God,  that  they  gave  this  pre-eminence  to 
their  Jupiter  ;  and  indeed  seem  to  have  ascribed  to 
him  universal  dominion,  and  every  attribute  requi- 
site for  the  exercise  of  it.  We  see  tliis  even  in  Ho- 
mer, notwithstanding  his  account  of  such  actions  of 
the  same  Jupiter  as  sink  him  far  below  the  level  of 
many  men.  But  a  strolling  bard,  ^^  ho  got  liis  liv- 
ing by  accommodating  himself  to  all  kinds  of  peo- 
ple, could  not  conti'adict  the  popular  tales  of  his 
countrymen,  absurd  as  he  might  think  them ;  and 
they, served,  as  a  ver}'  convenient  machinery ^  as  it  is 
now  called,  for  his  poem. 

Besides  that  one  of  the  epithets  of  Jupiter  in  Ho- 
mer {fjLrjTisIa)  implies  wisdom,  he  is  expressly  said, 
(Iliad,  Lib.  XIII.  v.  631.)  to  "excel  all  the  gods 
**  and  men  in  wisdom"  ;  and  when  the  wisdom  of 
Ulysses  and  also  that  of  Hector,  is  praised,  it  is 

compar- 


I 


^ 


THE    GRECIAN    PHILOS 


OIHV. 


compared  to  that  of  Jupiter  (Iliad.  Lib.  II.  168. 
Lib.  VII.  V.  74)  He  is  also  stiled  the  omnipotent  (Iliad. 
Lib.  II.  V.  115.)  and  said  "to  command  mortals 
"  and  immortals"  (  Lib.  XII.  v.  242.)  He  is  repre- 
sented as  asserting  his  own  superiority  to  all  the  gods 
and  goddesses,  both  in  wisdom  and  power,  and  they 
all  allow  it  (Iliad,  Lib.  VIII.  v  9  )  &c.  When  the 
demolition  of  several  cities,  particularly  named,  is 
ascribed  to  him,  it  is  added,  "  whose  power  is  the 
*'  greatest."    (Iliad,  Lib.  IX.  v.  25.) 

Theognis  had  the  same  idea  of  the  great  superi- 
ority  of  Jupiter,  when  he  says  (v  802.)  "  not  even 
* '  Jupiter,  who  rules  over  moitals  and  immortals, 
"  can  please  all  men." 

With  respect  to  the  issue  of  the  Trojan  war,  Ho- 
mer says,  "  the  will  of  Jupiter  was  done."  (Iliad, 
Lib.  I.  V  5.)  as  if  the  whole  had  depended  upon  him ; 
and  yet  there  remains  some  doubt  whether  there 
was  not,  even  in  the  opinion  of  Homer  himself,  an- 
other power  in  some  respects  superior  to  him,  and 
which  he  could  not  control,  viz.  Fate  as  we  shall  see 
hereafter. 

We  could  not  expect  such  attributes  as  these  of 

the  gi-eatest  wisdom  and  power  in  the  son  of  Saturn, 

though  called  the  father  of  gods  and  men  (Iliad, 

A5.  Lib. 


to  THE    PRINCIPLES    OF 

Lib,  XV.  V.  47.)  for  according  to  HesiocI,  this  Sa- 
turn was  only  the  youngest  son,  or  production,  of 
the  earth  and  the  l^icavens,  and  had  no  higher  epidiet 
dian  diat  of  crafty  (aixi^>.c/^-,/7fjr)  and  the  hcoveiis^ 
one  of  his  parents,  ^vas  die  oft"s]7ring  of  the  earthy 
tlie  odicr  of  them. 

ITiis  universal  opinion  of  the  great  superiority  of 
Jupiter  had  certainly  a  higher  origin  than  Hesiod's 
Theogony  gives  him,  and  must  have  been  die  re- 
mains of  a  much  purer  system  of  theolog}',  which 
taught  the  doctrine  oloiie  God,  infinitely  w  ise,  po\\'- 
crful,  and  good,  a  flivourer  of  virtue,  and  superin- 
tending all  the  affairs  of  men,  as  we  sliall  see  this 
Jupiter  to  do. 


Section  III. 

Of  Providence* 

The  faithcr  wc  proceed  in  this  examination,  th<r 
more  conxinced  we  shall  be  that  the  Jupiter  of  die 
more  sensible  of  the  Greeks  was  a  very  different 
person  from  die  son  of  the  crafty  Saturn,  or  the  le- 
cherous deity  of  the  vulgar,  and  of  the  stage ;  and 
A\  e  shall  see  that  they  gave  him  a  field  of  exertion 
suitable  to  the  extraordinary  jxjwcrs  widi  ^vhich 

diey 


THE    GRECIAN    PHILOSOPHY.  11 

they  invested  him.  According  to  them,  he  m  as 
nothing  less  than  the  supreme  Governor  of  the 
world,  and  the  sovereign  disposer  of  all  things  in 
it,  and  not  only  of  such  things  as  cannot  be  fore- 
seen or  prevented  by  man,  but  of  such  as  seem  to 
depend  upon  human  exertion. 

Wealth  is,  to  appearance,  most  certainly  acquir- 
ed by  industry  and  economy,  directed  by  good 
sense  in  the  conduct  of  men's  affairs ;  but  notwith- 
standing this,  it  is  constantly  represented  by  these 
writers  as  the  gift  of  Jupiter,  and  if  a  man  be  poor, 
it  is  by  them  ascribed  to  his  not  favouring  him. 
Hesiod  says  (On  Works,  Lib.  I.  v.  5.)  "  It  is  Ju- 
*'  piter  who  raises  up  one,  and  depresses  another. 
*'  It  is  Jupiter  who  gi-ves  poverty  to  men,"  (On 
Works,  Lib.  II.  v.  257.)  Theognis  says  (v.  157. 
165.)  "  No  person  is  rich  or  poor,"  and  he  adds, 
*'  good  or  bad,"  without  a  deity.  He  makes  "  some 
*'  rich,  and  others  poor.  God  surrounds  a  good 
"  man  with  every  blessing,  good  success,  aiidfrce- 
"  dom  from  folly  ;  and  we  ought  to  bear  whatever 
*'  die  gods  impose  upon  us."  (v.  591.)  Agreea- 
bly to  this  he  prays  (v.  1115.)  "May  Apollo  and 
"  Jupiter  grant  that  I  may  live  free  from  evil,  en- 
"  joying  health  and  riches."     He  says,  however 

(v.  863. 


12  THE     PRINCIPLES    OF 

(v.  863.)  "  God  g'lNCS  wealth  to  many  worthless 
"  men,  who  are  of  no  use  to  themselves,  or  their 
**  friends;"  Still,  however  it  is  disposed  of,  it  is 
the  gift  of  the  gods.  And  he  says  (v.  325.)  "  K 
"  the  gods  give  a  bad  man  wealth  and  riches,  like  a 
**  fool,  he  cannot  restrain  his  malice,  but  a  just  man 
"  is  tlie  same  in  good  or  bad  fortune."  He  there- 
fore reasonably  makes  this  a  motive  to  a  good  use 
of  riches.  **  Whatever  God  gives  to  you,  of  that 
"  give  to  the  poor."  He  also  makes  it  a  motive 
to  bear  misfortunes  with  patience.  "  In  misfortune 
**  pray  to  tlie  gods,  and  make  no  boast,  (v.  357.) 
According  to  the  poetical  representation  of  Ho- 
mer (Iliad.  Lib.  XXIV.  v.  527) "  There  are  placed 
"at  the  gates  of  Jupiter  two  casks,  one  of  them 
*'  containing  good,  and  the  other  evil,"  out  of  which 
it  is  hereby  intimated  that  he  gives  to  man  out 
of  one  or  other  of  them  as  he  pleases.  According 
to  tlie  uniform  language  of  Homer,  honour  is  also 
the  gift  of  Jupiter,  as  well  as  advantages  of  every  o- 
therkind.     (Iliad.  Lib.  IL  v.  198.) 

The  events  of  war  arc,  according  to  Homer,  no 
less  at  the  disposal  of  Juj^iter,  than  wealth  and  honor, 
though  the  Greeks  had  a  god,  Mai-s,  whose  pe- 
culiar province  it  ^^  as  to  attend  to  it.     He  is  ex- 
pressly 


THE    GRECIAN    PHILOSOPHT.  IS 

pressly  called  (Iliad.  Lib.  IV.  v  84.)  "  the  arbiter 
"  of  war"  and  is  said,  (Iliad.  Lib.  IL  v.  309.)"  to 
"  give  the  victory  to  whom  he  pleases  It  is  he" 
he  says  "  (Iliad.  Lib.  II.  v.  94.)  that  makes  a  man 
*'  a  warrior,  and  he  soon  turns  to  flight  the  valiant'* 
(Iliad,  Lib.  XVI.  V.  690.)  He  even  inspired  Ajax 
with  fear  (Lib.  XI.  v.  543.)  Hesiod,  agreeably  to 
these  sentiments,  says  (On  Works,  Lib.  I.  v.  225.) 
' '  Jupiter  does  not  visit  a  just  nation  with  war." 

In  like  manner  this  poet  considers  the  same  Ju- 
piter as  the  giver  of  wine,  though  Bacchus  is  said  to 
have  discovered  it,  to  have  imparted  it  to  men,  and 
to  preside  over  eveiy  thing  relating  to  it.  Nay, 
Hesiod,  in  three  or  four  different  places  of  his  The- 
ogny,  gives  the  gods  in  general  the  glorious  title  of 
QoTvpsg  socwv,)  the  ghers  of  good.  (v.  46, 633, 664, 
&c.)  It  was  a  saying  of  Bias,  "Whatever  good  you  do 
"  ascribe  it  to  the^ods."  These  are  precious  re- 
mains of  a  very  remote  antiquity,  derived  no 
doubt,  from  the  most  genuine  and  purest  source. 

In  order  to  this  government  of  the  world,  and 
the  sovereign  distributions  of  every  thing  in  it,  it 
was  necessary  that  the  gods,  and  especially  Jupiter, 
the  chief  of  them,  should  know  every  thing  that 
passes  in  it;  and  accordingly  this  is  taken  for 

granted 


14  THE     PRINCIPLES    OF 

j^rmiitcd  by  all  tlit-  writers  witliin  lliis period.  "  Do 
"  not"  says  Thcoiriiis,  (\ .  1195.)  "  swear  falsely 
♦M)\  the  'j-ocls.  This  is  not  to  be  home,  for  no- 
"  thing  can  be  concealed  from  tliem."  "  The 
"  eye  of  Jupiter,"  says  Ilesiod,  (On  Works,  Lib. 
I.  V.  205.)  "  who  sees  every  thing,  and  iinder- 
**  stands  eveiy  thing,  is  not  ignorant  of  any  thing 
*'  diat  passes  widiin  a  state."  He  is  Uiercfore  fre- 
qiv.ntly  appealed  to  in  Homer  as  always  present, 
and  a  witness  io  contracts,  as  in  (Iliad,  Lib.  \'n. 
V.  76.  411.)  He  is  pra3ed  to  (Iliad,  Lib.  VH. 
V.  178.)  to  determine  the  lot  that  was  to  decide 
^\  hieh  of  die  Greciim  m  iirriors  was  to  fight  Hector. 
It  was  a  saying  of  Thales  (who  said  that  God  had 
no  beginning  and  w  ill  have  no  end,)  diat  "neither 
*'  the  actions,  nor  die  thoughts,  of  bad  men  are  con- 
**  cealed  from  die  gods." 

As  attending  more  especially  to  the  affairs  of 
stiites,  and  kingdoms,  Jupiter  is  rei)rcsented  its 
"  die  guardian  of  kings,"  (Iliad.  Lib.  II.  v.  97.) 
and  die  Greeks  are  said  to  have  derived  their  hws 
from  him  (Lib.  I.  v.  239.)  How  uncerta'ui  any 
paiticular  event  may  be  widi  respect  to  man,  it  is 
uot  so,  according  to  Thcognis,  widi  respect  to 
God.     "  It  is  difficuh,"  he  says  (v.  1074.)  "  to 

"  know 


THE    GRECIAN    PHILOSOPHY.  15 

"  know  liow  a  thing  that  is  not  finished  will  end, 
"  or  how  God  will  bring  it  about." 

This  is  frequently  the  language  of  our  scriptures 
with  respect  to  the  constant  attention  that  God  gives 
to  the  affairs  of  men,  distributing  health,  wealth, 
power,  success  in  wai*,  and  ever\-  other  natural  ad- 
vantage, or  withholding  them,  and  appointing  in 
their  place  calamity  of  every  kind,  as  he  pleases, 
and  for  reasons  that  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  man  to 
comprehend.  These  heathens  do  not,  however, 
seem  to  have  entertained  the  same  persuasion  that 
the  sacred  writers  had,  of  the  wisdom  and  good- 
ness of  the  Supreme  Being  in  these  mysterious 
dispensations,  which,  whether  they  could  distin- 
guish or  not,  they  always  take  for  granted.  These 
heathens  also  never  express  the  noble  sentiment 
that  occurs  so  frequently  in  the  scriptures,  that 
hardships  of  every  kind  are  frequently  appointed  to 
be  the  lot  of  the  righteous,  for  an  exercise  of  their 
virtue,  and  as  the  correction  of  a  kind  and  judici- 
ous parent;  and  that  a  proper  reception  of  them, 
and  behaviour  under  them,  will  entitle  the  virtu- 
ous sufferers  to  a  glorious  rew:u'd.  Having  no 
knowledge  of  a  future  state,  they  could  not  sec  so 
far  into  the  conduct  of  providence. 

Section 


16  THE    PRINCIPLES    OF 


Section  IV. 

Of  Jupiter'' s  Regard  to  Virtue. 

As  the  early  Greek  \\Titers  have  given  to  Jupiter 
the  government  of  the  world,  though  not  the  creati- 
on of  it,  and  invested  him  with  powers  equal  to  it, 
they  have  not  failed  to  give  him  a  disposition  worthy 
of  that  high  station,  representing  him  as  the  fi-iend 
of  virtue  in  general,  and  especially  of  justice,  be- 
coming so  great  a  governor. 

Hesiod  has  many  excellent  observations,  express, 
ed  with  great  energy,  on  this  subject.  "  Let  us" 
hesays(OnWorks,Lib.  I.  v. 35.)  "  give  right  judg- 
*'  ments  in  contests,  for  these  are  from  Jupiter.  Ex- 
"  ercise  justice,  and  forget  violence,  this  is  the  law 
"  that  Jupiter  imposes  upon  men,  and  that  only 
"  beasts  of  prey  should  live  by  violence  and  slaugh- 
"  ter,  (On  Works,  Lib.  L  v.275.  )  Jupiter,  see- 
*'  ing  at  a  distance,  punishes  injustice  and  wickcd- 
„  ness,  (On  Works,  Lib.  I  v.  236.)  the  people  die, 
f"  women  do  not  bear  children,  families  decrease, 
*'  and  their  ships  perish.  To  just  men  Jupiter 
"  gives  wealth,  and  his  descendants  prosper,  but  the 

"  un- 


THE    GRECIAN     PHILOSOPHY.  17 

"  unjust  man  injures  himself,  and  his  posterit}." 
(On  Works,  Lib.  I.  v.  280.) 

To  enforce  these  admonitions,  he  gives  the  fol- 
lowing beautiful  allegory,  "  O  kings,  respect  jus- 
*'  tice ;  for  the  gods,  who  are  conversant  among 
*'  men,  see  all  the  unjust  judgments  of  those  who 
*'  do  not  regard  their  thieatenings-  ¥ov  there  lue 
"  three  myriads,  the  sons  of  Jupiter  on  the  eaitli, 
"  the  guardians  of  men,  who  take  an  account  botli  of 
"  justice  and  injustice,  having  vestments  of  air,  and 
*'  visiting  all  paits  of  the  eaith.  Justice  is  a  virgin, 
"the  daughter  of  Jupiter;  and  if  any  person  of- 
*'  fend  her,  she  immediately  complains  of  it  to  Ju- 
*'  piter,  and  the  people  suffer  for  the  offences  of 
"  their  kings,  who  do  not  decide  justly."  (On 
Works,  Lib.  L  v.  246.)  Lastly,  he  represents 
Jupiter  as  having  resolved  to  destroy  the  fifth,  and 
last,  race  of  men,  on  account  of  their  \'ices  and 
depravity  in  general.  (On  W^orks,  Lib.  I.  v.  178.) 

Thcognis  concurs  in  tlie  same  sentiments  Avlth 
Hesiod  in  representing  Jupiter  as  the  friend  and 
benefactor  of  good  men.  "  The  wealth,"  (^ .  197.) 
*'  hesaysthat  Jupiter  gives  to  a  just  man  is  perma- 
* '  nent.  By  inj u sticc  and  op]:)resssion  many  acqu  ire 
**  wealth;  but  it  will  be  lost,  for  the  mind  of  God 
**  is  superior,"  B.  More 


18  THE     pp.  IX  CI  PL  ES     OF 

More  especially,  Jupiter,  and  the  gods  in  gene- 
ral, are  represented  as  offended  at  perjury,  and  de- 
termined to  punisl)  it.  "  The  immortal  gods,'* 
says  Phocylidcs  (v.  15.)  "  hate  a  false  oath, 
whoever  takes  it."  And  Tlieognis  says,  "  nevei- 
*' sv.car  that  any  thing  shall  not  he  ;  for  the  gods 
*'  are  angry  at  it."  (v.  659.)  In  Homer  Jupiter  is 
frequently  appe^iled  to  for  the  obsenancc  of  oatlis, 
and  requested  to  punish  the  guilty,  (Iliad,  Lib.  III. 
\.  321.)  Talthybias  calls  to  witness  in  the  first 
place  Jupiter,  stiled  on  this  occasion,  by  the  re- 
markable character  of  the  greatest  and  the  best, 
then  the  sun,  the  earth,  and  the  furies,  who  he  says 
punish  the  perjured  under  tlie  earth,  (Iliad,  Lib. 

XIX.  V.  257.) 

* 

Odier  vices  are  occasionally  mentioned  as  incur- 
ring the  indignation  of  Jupiter.  "  Father  Jupiter 
*'  will  not  favour  a  liar"  (Iliad,  Lib.  IV.  v.  235.) 
*'  May  the  celestial  gods,"  says  Theognis  {\.  850.) 
*'  destroy  the  man  tliat  shall  by  smooth  speeclics 
"  deceive  his  friend."  Hesiod  says  (On  Works, 
Lib.  I.  V.  329.)  "  He  \\  ho  deceives  the  orphan,  or 
"  abuseshis  aged  parents,  Jupiter  is  certainly  angiy 
"  with  him,  and  at  the  last  he  wxVi  give  an  account 
"of  all  his  unjust  actions."      In  Homer  Mene- 

laus 


THE    GRECIAN     PHILOSOPHY.  19 

laus  prays  that  "Jupiter  may  give  lilm  to  punish 
"  the  wicked  Alexander,  that  hereafter  all  men  may 
"  dread  to  injure  a  person  who  has  received  them 
"  with  kindness."  (Iliad,  Lib.  III.  v.  11.)  Chi- 
lon  being  asked  what  Jupiter  was  doing,  said, 
."  He  is  humbling  the  proud  and  exalting  the  hum- 
''  ble." 

No  Jew  orChristian  could  appeal  with  more  con- 
fidcnce  to  the  justice  and  equity  of  die  true  God 
than  these  persons  do  to  tlieir  Jupiter.  It  is  evi- 
dent, therefore,  that,  whate^'cr  name  they  gave  this 
object  of  their  worship  they  had  the  same  Idea  of 
his  general  character ;  and  this  must  have  been  de- 
rived from  the  same  source.  The  belief  of  a  rig]  v 
teous  governor  of  the  world  appears  ne\'er  to  liave , 
been  wholly  abandoned  by  mankind.  Though 
the  name  was  changed,  and  multiplicitv  took  tlie 
place  of  unity,  what  was  most  essential  to  the  rip-h- 
teous  administration  of  affairs  was,  in  a  considera- 
ble degree,  though  accompanied  with  much  super- 
stition, retained.  The  heathens  were  deficient 
chiefly  in  their  ignorance  of  a  future  state,  in  \\  hich 
the  seeming  ireigularities,  and  many  unaccounta- 
ble appearances  in  this  life,  will  be  rectified  to  uni- 
versal satisfaction. 


B2.  Se 


ECTI- 


20  THE     PRINCIPLES    OF 

Section  V. 
Of  the  Influence  of  the  Fates. 

It  is  something  remarkable  that,  notwithstanding; 
the  omnipotence  which  the  hcatliens  ascribed  to 
their  gods,  and  their  control  over  the  affairs  of  men, 
they  had  an  idea  of  a  power  which  the  godstliem- 
selvcs  either  could  not,  or  did  not  chuse  to  oppose. 
This  A\as  Fate  J  or  the  Fates.  And  yet  this  was  a 
di'  inityto\\hichthey  never  ascribed  any  degree  of 
wisdom. 

According  to  Hesiod,  the  Fates  were  the  daugh- 
ters of  Jupiter,  and  he  gave  tiiem  this  extraordinary 
power.  "  Jupiter"  (and  whom  on  this  occasion 
he  styles  "  the  wise^  ^yitistoi)  produced  the  Pai'coc 
"  (tjioc'ov)  Clotho,  Lachesis,  and  Atropos,  to  whom 
*'  he  gave  the  greatest  honour,  who  distribute  good 
''  and  evil  to  mortal  men,"  Theognis  v.  905. 
But  in  another  place  of  the  same  poem  (v.  211)  he 
says  that,  *'  Niglit  produced  odious  Fate  (>t>?pa) 
**  and  die  black  Pare oe  {gaptoiJi)  and  death,  without 

"  the  concurrence  of  any  deity and  die  fatiJ 

"  goddesses,  and  cruel  Parcce,  Clotho,  Lachesis, 

''and 


THE    GRECIAN     THILOSOPHY.  2i 

•*  and  Atropos,  \vho  appoint  good  and  evil  to  men 
**  tliat  are  born,  vvlio  revenging  the  offences  of  men 
*■■  and  gods,  never  remit  of  their  anger  till  they  have 
punished  the  offender."  Here  the  same  powers 
have  a  different  origin,  and  are  altogether  indepen- 
dent of  Jupiter,  or  any  of  the  gods,  and  superior 
to  them  all. 

Besides  the  sovereign  power  over  life  and  death, 
and  external  advantages  of  eveiy  kind,  the  affecti- 
ons and  characters  of  men  are  sometimes  ascribed 
to  these  fates.  "  The  Fates,"  says  Homer,  (Iliad, 
Lib.  XXIV.  V.  49.)  "give  a  patient  mind  to  man." 
However,  with  respect  to  the  important  article  of 
life  or  death,  their  decision  a\  iis  never  violated ; 
and  the  time,  and  all  the  circumstances,  of  a  man's 
death  we^-e  determined  by  them,  as  wtW  as  the 
death  itself.  Thus  Neptune  assures  Achilles,  who 
knew  that  he  was  never  to  return  from  the  siege  of 
Troy,  tliat  i^  was  not  his  fate  to  be  drowned  in  the 
river,  when  he  apprehended  that  he  was  in  great 
danger  from  it.  (Iliad,  Lib.  XXI.  v.  291.)  He 
wishes  that  he  might  die  by  the  hand  of  Hector,  a 
brave  man,  but  he  knew  that  he  should  fall  b^-  a 
less  noble  hand.  (Iliad,  Lib.  XXI.  v.  278.) 

Whatever  tJic  gods  might  wish,  tliey  never  fail. 
B  3.  ea 


j22  TJIE     PRINCIPLES    OF 

eel  to  acquiesce  in  the  known  decision  of  the  lutes, ' 
Achilles,  lamenting  his  destiny,  says  that  "  Hercu- 
"  les,  though  most  dear  to  Jupiter,  was  conquered 
"  by  Fate,  and  tlie  anger  of  Juno  (Iliad,  Lib. 
XVIII.  V.  118.)  *^  It  was  in  the  fates,'*  he  says, 
(Iliad.  Lib.  XVIII.  v.  328.)  ^'  that  two  friends  of 
*'  his  should  die  before  Troy,  as  ^vcll  as  that  he 
*' was  not  to  return  to  Greece."  It  was  one  of 
the  sayings  of  Pittacus.  ''  The  Gods  cannot  op- 
*•'  pose  Fate.'' 

On  several  occasions  the  gods  express  some  de- 
gree of  fear  least  the  orders  of  tlie  fates  should 
be  violated.  Neptune,  expressing  his  regard  for 
JEneas,  advises  him  not  to  fight  before  the  death 
of  Achilles  (Iliad,  Lib.  XX.  v.  336.)  though  he 
kneA\'  that  it  was  not  in  the  fates  that  he  should  die 
by  his  hand.  Both  Apollo  and  Jupiter  express 
dieir  concern  lest  the  Greeks  should  take  Troy  be- 
fore the  time  ordained  by  the  fiites.  (Iliad,  Lib. 
XXL  V.  516.  XX.  V.  30.) 

On  some  occasions  Jupiter,  who  is  said  to  ha\« 
gi^  en  this  great  power  to  the  fates,  seems  to  think 
it  was  in  his  power  to  control  them,  and  to  have 
been  half  inclined  to  do  it ;  but  he  yielded  to  t!ie 
|env)Uijtrances  of  Uie  other    i$ods,   who  opposed 

his 


THE     GRECIAN    PlIILOSOril  Y.  23 

his  resolution.  When  Hector  was  driven  by  A- 
chillcs  round  the  walls  of  Troy,  Jupiter  expressed 
an  inclination  to  save  him  from  death.  But  Mi- 
nerva says  to  him,  (Iliad,  Lib.  XXII.  v.  180.) 
"  Would  you  deliver  from  death  a  mortal  man, 
*'  destined  to  die  by  the  fates ?  Do  ^^ hat  jou 
*'  please,  but  vvc,  the  rest  of  the  gods,  will  not  give 
*'  our  consent."  He  acknowledged  that  it  was  i.i 
the  fates  that  Sarpcdon  should  die  by  tlie  hand  of 
Patroclus,  and  wished  to  con\  ey  him  to  a  pkce  of 
safety ;  but  Juno  expostulating  with  him  on  the 
subject,  he  acqu  iesccd.  (Iliad.  Lib.  XVI.  v.  432.) 
The  independence  of  the  decision  of  these  fates  on 
the  will  of  the  gods  seems  not  to  have  been  a  fixed 
principle.  For  Ulysses,  speaking  to  Tii-esias  in 
the  Elysian  fields  says,  according  to  Homer,  (O- 
dyssey,  Lib.  XI.  v.  138. ) "  Perhaps  the  gods  them- 
*'  selves  have  decreed  these  things.  {.'Tr-KKMa-ocv) 
At  what  time  this  decision  of  the  fates  ^Aas  made, 
is  not  said  in  these  writers  ;  but  it  uas  commonly 
supposed  to  be  at  the  birth  of  every  particular  per., 
son.  It  was,  however,  considered  as  so  in'cvocar 
ble,  that  these  fates,  though  goddesses,  were  never 
prayed  to,  it  being  taken  for  granted  that  w  hatever 
they  had  advanced  it  \\'ould  never  be  altered. 

B  4.  Thero 


24  THE    PRINCIPLES    O? 

There  ^^  as  another  celestial  pow  cr  acknowledg- 
ed by  the  Greeks,  but  seemmgly  not  so  early  as 
the  times  of  Hesiod  and  Homer,  as  they  make  no 
mcntifjn  of  her.  This  ^^  as  Fortune.  For  whate- 
ver was  afterwards  ascribed  to  her,  is  by  him,  and 
all  the  other  writers  that  I ha\e  quoted,  ascribed  to 
Jupiter,  or  some  other  of  the  gods. 

Neither  of  these  pow  crs  arc,  however,  known  in 
the  scriptures.  According  to  them,  everj^  thing  in  the 
\\  orld,  life  and  death,  riches  and  poverty,  success, 
orde  want  of  it,  in  war,  and  undertakings  of  any 
odier  kind,  are  ascribed  to  the  providence  of  that 
one  Gody  who  created  and  governs  all  things,  and 
whose  w^ill,  independently  of  any  such  powers  as 
those  of  Fate  or  Fortune,  decides  upon  every  thing. 
To  him  we  arc  taught  to  look  for  ever)-  thing,  as 
being  whoU}*  dependant  upon  him,  and  accounta- 
ble to  him.  This  frees  the  mind  from  tliat  per- 
plexity, to  which  the  wisest  of  the  heatliens  must 
have  been  subject,  w  hile  they  had  any  apprehensi- 
on of  this  hl'ind  Jate  to  which,  whether  willingly  or 
unwillingly,  their  gods  themselves,  widiout  except- 
ing even  Jupiter,  submitted. 

Secti- 


THE    GRECIAN    PHILOSOPHY. 


25 


Section   VI. 

Of  Moral  Duties,  and  also  of  Death  and  the  Con- 
sequences of'U. 

Almost  all  the  writers  that  I  have  quoted  in  tliis 
part  of  my  work  deliver  excellent  precepts  both 
respecting  morals  properly  so  called,  and  the  pru- 
dent conduct  of  life,  similar  to  the  Proi^erbs  of  So- 
lomon, to  which  they  will  often  well  bear  to  be 
compared.  Many  parts  of  Hesiods  poem  On  Works, 
and  the  sentences  of  Theognis,  ai-e  particularly  va- 
luable on  this  account,  though  the  superstition  of 
the  former,  or  rather  that  of  the  age  and  the  coun- 
try in  which  he  lived,  as  appears  in  the  second  piut 
of  the  poem  viz.  On  Days,  is  extreme. 

On  the  subject  of  death,  and  its  consequences, 
there  is  a  remarkable  silence  in  all  the  serious  wri- 
ters of  this  period.  The  knowledge  of  the  doc- 
trine of  a  resurrection  was  completely  lost,  but 
there  are  traces  of  a  belief  that  the  soul  survives 
the  gra^'e,  though  not  of  any  state  of  righteous  re- 
tribution, in  which  the  righteous  will  be  rewarded, 
and  the  wicked  punished  for  their  actions  here,  ex- 
B  5.  cept 


26  tiife   prvixciPLE3  0? 

cept  in  those  fables  of  Homer  concerning  the  state 
of  ghosts  in  tartarus  and  elysium,  probably  not  se- 
riously believed  by  himself;  so  that  the  great  sanc- 
tion of  virtue,  familiar  to  Jews  and  Cliristians  was 
unknomi  to  them. 

In  Fhocylidcs  are  some  sentences  which  express 
a  clear  1:)elief  of  souls  surviving  the  grave.  "  Im- 
*'  mortal  souls,"  he  says  (v.  110.)  "  free  from  old 
*'  age,  li^e  for  ever.  All  the  dead  are  equal," 
(v.  105.)  "but  God  governs  souls.  Wc  hope  to 
"  see  the  remains  of  the  dead  come  out  of  the  eai'tli 
*'  into  light,  after  which  they  will  be  gods.  For 
*'  incorruptible  Souls  remain  in  the  dead.  The 
*'  spirit  is  the  image  of  God  given  to  mortals," 
(v.  100.)  According  to  this  the  soul  continues  at- 
tached to  the  body  some  time  after  it  is  dead,  which 
was  the  opinion  of  the  Egyptians,  and  the  cause, 
as  it  is  thought  of  their  endeavouring  to  presciTC 
the  bodies  so  long  by  embalming  them,  and  keep- 
jnsrthem  in  their  houses. 

o 

After  tlie  perusal  of  this,  how  happy  ought  we  to 
think  ourselves  for  enjoyingdie  glorious  light  of  die 
Gospel,  by  which,  and  by  which  alone,  life  aiidim- 
mortality  are  brought  to  lights  Without  this  light, 
the  r^'ii'^oOTo/'/^^ujrA/avaik'd  but  little  to  the  mo- 
ral 


THE    GRECIAN    PHILOSOPHY.  27 

pal  improvement  and  happiness  of  man.  And  as 
we  proceed  we  shall  find  no  increase  of  light,  but 
rather  of  darkness,  with  respect  to  this  subject. 


•  F 


0  F 

THE  PHILOSOPHY 

of 
PYTHAGORAS. 


INTRODUCTION. 

X^  YTHAGORASappeiirs  to  have  been  the  first  of 
all  the  Greeks  who  gave  his  m  hole  time  to  philosophy 
either  in  die  acquisition  of  know  ledge  or  in  die  com- 
munication of  it  to  odiers.  He  is  said  to  have  been  a 
native  of  Samos,  and  after  having  had  some  instiuc- 
tion  from  Pherec}des  of  Scyros,  (of  whom  litUe  is 
known,  except  that  he  liad  some  knowledge  of  Ori- 
ental philosoph}',)  he  wtnX.  to  Kg}-pt ;  where,  hav- 
ing the  patronage  of  the  king  Aniasis,  he  obtained 
leave  to  be  initiated  into  the  religion  and  philoso- 
phy of  die  Egyptians.  The  priests  made  him  un- 
dergo a  \Qry  severe  discipline,  including  circumci- 
sion, but  he  submitted  to  everj^  thing  they  enjoin- 
ed ;  and,  continuing  in  the  countiy  twenty  tM  o 
years,  may   be  presumed  to  ha^•e  acquired  all  the 

know- 


OF    THE    PHILOSOPHY,  8<C.  29 

kno^vledge  that  could  be  obtained  there.  Finding 
on  liis  return  no  sufficient  encouragement,  in  his 
endeavours  to  open  a  school  of  pliilosophy  in  his 
own  country,  he  finally  settled  at  Crotona,  in  that 
part  of  Itiily  which,  in  consequence  of  having  been 
colonized  by  Greeks,  was  called  Magna  Grascia  ; 
from  Avhich  his  sect  of  philosophy  was  called  tlie 
Italic.  Here  his  disciples  were  veiy  numerous, 
and  they  continued  with  more  or  less  reputation  a- 
bout  tv.o  hundrad years. 

It  is  not  possible  to  ascertain  with  any  certainty 
what  it  v.as  tliat  was  taught  by  Pythagoras  himself. 
For,  besides  committing  nothing  to  w  riting,  he  en- 
joined the  strictest  secrecy  on  all  his  pupils,  train- 
ing them  to  tile  most  severe  discipline,  the  first  part 
of  which  is  said  to  have  been  an  uninteiTupted  si- 
lence of  five  years.  By  this  means  nothing  of  his 
doctrines  transpired  till  a  little  before  the  time  of 
Plato,  w^hich  m  as  something  more  than  a  century 
after  the  establishment  of  the  sect,  m  hen  se\'cral  phi- 
losophers in  Greece  having  acquired  much  reputa- 
tion by  their  writings,  the  masters  of  the  Italic 
schools  began  to  publish  \\  hat  the}-  had  been  taught 
of  its  doctrines,  but  mixed  with  their  own. 

Of  these  later  Pythagoreans  there  are  extant  two 
curious  and  valuable  treatises,  one  by  Ocellus 

Luca- 


so  or     THE     PHILOSOPHY 

Lucanus  aiid  the  other  I)y  Timoeus  Locrus,  be- 
sides many  large  extracts  by  Stoboeus  from  the 
writings  of  iVrchytas,  and  besides  many  fragments 
irom  Theages,  the  Sentences  of  Democrates,  Se- 
cundus,  Demopliilus  and  Sextus,  and  verses 
Avhich  ha^-e  obtained  for  their  excellence  the  title 
Q^golderiy  \vritten  as  Fabriciufs  supposes  by  Empc- 
docles,  but  certainly  by  some  learned  Pythagorean. 
From  these  sources  Ave  must  now  be  content  to 
collect  the  best  account  rhat  A\e  can  of  the  genei*al 
principles  of  the  Pythagorean  philosophy.  They 
are  all  published  in  Gale''s  Opuscula  Mythologicay7m(\. 
some  of  the  latter  of  them  I  suspect  to  contain  sen- 
timents that  do  not  properly  belong  to  any  svstem  of 
heathen  philosoph}-,  but  to  have  been  borrowed  from 
Christianity.  In  the  choice  of  these  I  have  been 
vcr)- sparing,  and  tliey  \\\\\  be  noticed,  as  it  is  mv 
object  not  to  go  beyond  the  time  when  Christianity 
became  tlie  religion  of  tlie  Roman  emperors. 

From  the  genuine  tracts  above-mentioned  it  will 
not  be  difficult  to  collect  a  prett}' just  idea  of  tlie 
principles  of  this  sect,  at  least  as  improved  by  the 
followers  of  Pythagoras ;  and  as  to  what  he  tiiught 
that  has  never  come  to  light,  a\  hich  was  probabl} 
something  more  near  to  the  oriental  philosophy,  it 
is  of  little  conseijuencc  to  know  at  present. 

Secti- 


OF     PYTHAGOHAS.  51 

I 

vSection  I. 
Concerning  God.  , 

That  God  is  the  maker  and  go^-ernor  of  the 
world,  and  the  sovereign  disposer  ofall  events,  was 
taken  for  granted  by  all  the  Pythagxjreans,  and  there 
is  a  great  display  of  genuine  piety  in  what  re- 
mains of  their  writings.  Timoeus  says  "  God  is 
"  the  author  and  parent  of  all  tilings,  but  what  is 
''  produced  by  him  we  see  with  our  eyes."  The 
honour  due  to  God,  and  to  other  objects  of  wor- 
ship according  to  their  respective  ranks,  is  incul- 
cated in  the  first  of  the  golden  verses  of  Pythago- 
ras. "  In  the  first  place  honor  the  gods,  as  the 
*'  laws  direct,  ^id  observe  oaths.  Then  venerate 
*'  the  famous  heroes,  and  the  infernal  godsjperform- 
*'  ing  with  respect  to  them  the  rites  directed  bv 
*'  the  laws.  Then  honour  thy  pai^ents,  and  nearest 
^^  relations."  This  probably  refers  to  some  religious 
ceremony  in  honour  of  men's  ancestors,  which  is 
to  this  day  a  great  article  in  the  religion  of  tlie 
Hindoos. 

All  this,  however,  might  be  in  obedience  to 
tlie  laws,  the  omission  of  whiciv  would  have  been 

punish- 


32  OF    THE     PRINCIPLES 

punishable  ;  but  the  author  of  these  verses  farther 
directs  to  begin  no  work  \\  ithout  asking  the  di- 
vine blessing  for  its  success.  Evil,  as  well  as 
good,  is  here  ascribed  to  the  providence  of  God- 
"  Whatever  portion  you  have  of  the  calamity  that 
*'  befals  men  through  the  divine  appointment  bear 
*'  with  patience,  and  without  complaining.  How- 
*' ever,  remedy  the  evil  if  you  can,  and  consider 
"  that  the  Piircoe  do  not  assign  much  of  this  to 
good  men."  Here  the  assignment  of  the  Paiccc 
are  considered  as  the  same  \\  ith  the  will  of  the 
gods.  One  of  the  sayings  collected  byDemophi- 
Iu3  is,  "  God  sends  evil  to  men  not  in  anger,  for  an- 
**■  ger  is  foreign  to  God.  This  takes  place  ^\  hen 
"  things  come  by  accident,  whereas  nothing  can 
"  come  to  God  but  what  he  wills." 

There  is  much  good  sense,  as  well  as  piety,  in 
the  precepts  of  Pythagoras  relating  to  God,  at 
least  such  as  are  ascribed  to  him  by  those  ^\  ho 
collected  his  sayings.  Among  them  are  die  fol- 
lowing. "  Gifts  and  sacrifices  confer  no  honour 
'*  on  God,  but  a  pious  mind  joins  it  finally  to 
•'  God.  For  things  that  are  similar  must  be  joined 
"  to  things  Jiimilar,  (Dem.)  God  has  not  on  tlie 
*'  eaith  a  place  more  suitable  to  him  dian  a  cliaste 

"and 


fiF     PYTHAGORAS,  33 

^'  and  pure  mind.  (lb.)  If  you  consider  that 
"  whatever  is  done  by  the  mind  or  tlie  body  is 
"  seen  by  God^,  you  will  revere  his  presence,  from 
*'  whom  nothing  can  be  concealed  ;  for  you  will 
"  have  God  residing  in  your  breast,"  (lb.)  Having 
mentioned  a  \ariety  of  good  works,  the  golden 
verses  add,  "  These  will  put  you  in  the  way  ofdi- 
"  vine  virtue." 

It  is  the  more  probable  that  these  pious  senti- 
ments were  the  genuine  produce  of  the  Pythagore- 
an school,  as  it  was  nearer  to  tlie  patriarchal  times, 
and  something  like  those  in  die  book  of  Job,  v.hen 
ti'ue  piety  was  still  more  prevalent,  and  more  free 
from  supcrstidon.  Wesliall,  however,  observe  a  la- 
mentable departure  from  the  simple  idea  of  revela- 
tion, when  we  see  what  the  Pythagoreans  say  con- 
cerning the  structure  of  the  world,  and  the  nature 
of  the  human  soul,  on  which  subjects  tliey  led  the 
way  to  all  the  w  ild  ideas  of  Plato  and  some  of  the 
sentiments  of  Aristotle,  though  these  do  not  seem 
to  have  been  willing  to  acknowledge  their  obligati, 
•ns  to  them. 


SfiCTioiir 


M  •?     THJE     PHILOSOPHV 

Section   II. 
Of  the  Structure  of  the  I^'or/d. 

. ,  V  -  -all  sec  in  this  section  how  fai-  the  iri'^ds  of 
the  most  intelh^t^ent  men  can  wander  from  renson 
and  common  sense,  when  they  speculate  en  subjects 
that  are  above  their  comprehension,  and  on  wSch, 
bavins:  no  light  from  re\clation,  it  was  impossible 
that  they  should  get  any  at  all. 

Moses  with  great  simplicity,  as  expressing  all 
that  he  believed,  and  all  that  he  could  know,  on  the 
subject,  says  "  h\  the  beginning  God  created  the 
heavens  and  the  earth.  But  these  phil6sophei-s,  hav- 
ing lost  e^■ery  tradition  of  this  kind,  (which,  how- 
evei',  was  retiiined  in  the  East)  maintained  tliat  tlic 
universe  hud  no  beginning,  as  wqW  as  that  it  \\\\\ 
have  no  end.  "  All  plants  and  animals,  says  Ocel- 
*'  lirs  Lucimus  (Cap.  1.  8v  3.)  and  also  tlie  human 
"  race,  have  always  been,  and  a\  ill  c\  or  be  as  they 
*'  now  arc."  This,  too,  is  contrary  to  the  doc- 
tiiiieofour  scriptures,  which  holds  out  to  us  a  far 
inore  pleasing  prospect,  ^iz.  a  perpetual  progress 
toa  better  state  of  tilings,  iuid  the  great  adviuitage 

wliich 


o/    PYTHAGORAS.  35 

which  virtuous  men  will  derive  from  it,  in  their 
own  constcint  improvement,  and  tlic  removal  of  eve- 
ry impediment  to  it,  with  every  thing  else  that  is 
'  painful  and  distressing  to  them.  Of  this  no  .hea- 
then philosopher  had  the  least  idea. 

Notwithstanding  the  opinion  of  the  Pythagore- 
ans, of  one  Supreme  God,  they  admitted  many  in- 
ferior   deities,    and    paiticulai-ly    considered  i//e 
worldus  endued  with  life  and  divinity,  and  in  their 
account  of  tlie  formation  of  k  we  shall  see  the  iutcl- 
ligible  ideas  of  Rato,  which  he,  no  doubt,  borrow- 
ed from  them.     ^'  God,"  says  Timceus,  "  form- 
"  ed  the  world  out  of  all  kinds  of  matter.     It  is 
*'  one,  the  only  begotten,  endued  with  a  soul  and 
"  reason.     Wlien  God  willed  to  produce  a  per 
*'  feet  offspring,  heTnadc  this  generated  god,  not  to 
"  be  perishable  from  any  cause  except  by  the  god 
*'  that  made  it.     The  world  therefore  remains  as  it 
*'  was  created  by  God,  free  from  corruption  and 
**  death.     It  is  the  best  of  all  created  things,  since 
"  it  arose  from  the  best  of  causes.     In  this  the  cre- 
**  ator  proposed  to  himself  no  model  made  by  hand, 
^''  but  his  own  ideas^  and  biteUigible  essence,  accord- 
■*  ing  to  which,  when  things  are  made  with  exqui- 
^  site  art,  they  are  the  most  beautiful,  and  require 
'*  oot  to  be  mei^d  by  any  new  operation*" 

C  2.  Ta 


36  Of    THE    PHILOSOPHY 

In  a  liuther  account  of  these  ideas ^  he  says, 
*'  There  is  in  the  universe  something  that  is  per- 
"  manent,  and  intelligible,  the  examplar  of  the 
*'  things  that  are  produced,  which  ai-ein  a  perpetu- 
*'al  flux.  "Fhey  are  called  ideas ,  and  are  compre- 
herxded  by  tlie  mind."  He  afterwards  calls  these 
jdcasy«j;-;7z^  which  are  comprehended  by  the  mind, 
and  science.  "Before  tlie  heavens  existed,  there 
*'  were  fcrms^  2Xi^mattcr^  and  God,  who  is  good, 
"  and  is  the  author  of  that  which  is  best." 

The  Pytliagoreans  speak ofevery  thing  as  adapted 
to  harmonical numbers^  and  on  this  subject  Timoeus 
goes  into  many  particulars,  A\luch  it  would  be  te- 
dious to  recite.  *'  Of  these,"  however,  he  says 
"  the  soul  01  the  world  is  constituted.  Life,"  he 
says,  "  supports  the  body,  and  die  cause  of  this  is 
"  the  soul  (ipi>%a)-  Harmony  supports  tl:c  world, 
"  aiid  ihc  cause  {aijs^  )  of  this  is  God."  Frag- 
menta. 

"  God,"  he  says,  "  placed  the  soul  of  the  world 
"  in  its  center,  and  also  produced  it  externally,'* 
probably  meaning  that,  diough  seated  in  the  center, 
its  operation  goes  beyond  it. 

The  world  is  not  the  only  inferior  deity  in  this 
system.     "  In  every  part  of  die  world,"  sa)s  Ocel- 
lus 


©P     PYTHAGORAS.  37 

Ins  Lucanus  (cap.  3.)  "there  are  inhabitants  of  a 
nature  proper  to  it,  as  gods  in  the  heavens,  men  up- 
on the  earth,  in  tlie  higher  regions  demons,  and  of 
course  the  race  of  man  must  always  continue. 

Matter  these  philosophers  seem  to  have  consider- 
ed as  having  always  existed,  independently  of  the 
deity,  and  as  having  been  subject  to  laws  which  he 
could  not  wholly  control.  "  Whence,"  Timoeus 
says,  though  with  some  degree  of  obscurity, 
*'  There  are  two  causes  of  all  things,  m'mdo^  those 
"  things  which  are  produced  with  reason,  and  ne- 
"  cesshy  of  those  which  exist  by  a  kind  of  force, 
*'  according  to  the  powers  and  properties  of  body.'* 
They,  therefore,  did  not  want  any  other  cause  of 
evil  besides  matter. 


Section  III. 

Of  the  Human  Soul. 

According  to  these  Pythagoreans,  the  human  soitl 
is  not  of  a  nature  so  distinct  from  the  body,  but 
that  it  has  both  some  connection  with  it,  and  some 
properties  in  common  with  it,  "  The  source  of 
[^  vice,"  says  Timoeus,  is  in  pleasure  and  grief, 
C  3.  "  desire 


53  OF    THE     PiriLOSOPHY 

*'  desire  and  fear,  ^vliich  being  excited  in  tlie  bo- 
"  dy,  get  mixed '\\ith  the  soul,  and  have  obtained 
"  various  nhmes  from  their  various  effects,  as  love, 
**  desire,"  he.  so  that  the  passions  are  common  to 
the  soul  and  the  lx)dy,  though  they  are  first  excited 
in  tlje  latter. 

They  maintained,  however,  the  supcriorit}-  of 
tlie  mind  to  the  body  as  when  Archytas  (Gale's, 
Op.  myth.  p.  732.)  says,  "  In  ail  human  ihingswis- 
*' dom  is  most  excellent,  as  the  sight  is  more  so 
"  than  the  otlier  senses,  the  mind  (vcvg)  than  the  soul 
"  (J'^X^)  and  the  sun  than  the  stai's."  Here  wc 
liave  two  parts  of  tlie  soul,  cr  of  tlie  man,  dis- 
til, guished  b}'  their  respecti\e  names,  the  former, 
signifying  the  seat  of  intelligence,  and  the  other  that 
of  mere  animal  life. 

Tlmoeus  explains  tliis  di\ision  of  die  soul  far- 
tlier  when  he  sa}^,  "  One  part  of  the  human  soul  is 
*  endued  \nth  reason  ahd  intelligence,  but  the  o- 
*'  the^Ii-  vithout  reason,  and  stuj/ul.  Tlie  former 
*'  is  the  r.^iore  excellent,  but  botli  have  their  seat  a- 
*'  bout  the  head,  that  the  other  parts  of  the  soul, 
*'  and  of  the  body  too,  mij^ht  be  subser\ient  to  it, 
*'  as  being  under  the  same  tabernacle  of  die  body. 
*'  But  that  part  of  the  soul  which  is  witliout  reason, 

and 


or    PYTHAGORA-S.  39 

*'  and  which  is  prone  to  anger,  has  its  seat  about 
"  the  heart ;  and  that  m  hrch  has  concupiscence 
*'  has  its  seat  about  the  Hver.  But  the  brain  is  the 
"  principle,  and  root,  of  the  spinal  TnaiTovv ;  and 
*' in  it  the  soul  has  the  seat  of  itsgovcrmncnt.,'' 
(Gale's,  opus,  mytli.  p.  556.  557.) 

Theages  divides  the  soul  in  the  same  manner. 
"  One  of  the  pai'ts,"  he  says,  *'  has  reason,  another 
**  anger,  andtlie  third  desire.  The  virtue  of  pru- 
*'  dence,"  he  says,  "  belongs  to  the  first  part,  for- 
*'  titude  to  the  second,  and  temperance  to  the  third, 
*'  and  justice  is  the  virtue  of  the  whole  souL" 
(Ibid.  p.  688.) 

How  much  more  simple  and  satisfactory  is  the 
short  account  that  Moses  gives  of  tlie  formation  and 
constituent  principles  of  man.  After  giving  an  act 
count  of  the  formation  of  all  other  aniinals,  he  says 
that  in  the  last  place,  God  made  man  oft/ie  dust  of 
the  ground.,  and  then  breathed  into  him  the  breada 
of  life,  after  which  he  was  a  living  soul,  or  being ; 
that  is,  after  the  mail  was  completely  made,  w  ith  all 
his  powers,  those  of  the  mind,  as  ^^^ell  as  those  of 
the  body,  God  enabled  him  to  breath,  by  which  all 
his  powers  were  excitcd^id  brought  into  actual 
f  :^ercise.  Nothing  is  here  said  of  any  division  of 
C4.  tlie 


40  0?   THE    rnii.osoPHY 

the  principle  of  life,  but  he  adds,  that  man  ivas 
made  in  tlic  Ukeiies"  ofGod^  meaning  probably  hav- 
injr  capacity  of  knoA\  in*:^.  and  of  having  intercourse 
^\ith  him,  which  other  animals  have  not ;  and  that 
lie  ff^atie  him  dominion  over  all  the  other  animals^ 
proir:rties  v;hicll  he  has,  and  fully  exercises. 

TliC  accort  given  by  these  Pythagoreans  of  the 
sLite  of  J  le  sou  i  afier  deatli,  is  still  more  unsatisfactoiy 
;and  inconsistent.  According  to  the  golden  verses, 
the  roul  isnnmortal.  '*  If,"saystlicautlior  (v.  70.) 
"  when  you  have  left  the  l)ody,  you  arrive  at  tlic 
"  fiee  edicr,  you  \\ ill  be  \\\\\\  the  incorruptible 
*•*■  immortal  gods,  and  be  no  longer  mortal."  Tim- 
CKUS  gives  the  followdng  more  detailed  account  Of 
the  power  of  man  to  attain  this  state,  as  well  as  of  the 
punishment  of  those  whose  \ices  disqualify  them 
for  it ;  but  it  isMith  a  sufficient  intimation,  that  he 
considered  it  a:s  founded  on  mere  foble,  calculated 
for  the  use  of  the  \  ulgar,  and  by  no  means  agreea- 
ble to  truth  ,  so  that  it  is  probable  that  at  diis  time 
the  Pythagoreans  had  wholly  abandoned  all  belief 
in  a  future  state,  "Music,"  he  says,  "and  the 
"  directiix  of  !t  philosophy,  are  adapted  by  God, 
*'  and  die  laws,  for  the  improvement  of  the  mind, 
*'  and  they  accustom,  persuade,  and  compel,  that 
part  of  the  soul  which  has  no  reason  to  be  gendc, 

free 


•  F    PYTHAGORAS,  41 

**  free    from  anger,    arid    desire Science, 

*'  and  antient  and  venerable  philosophy,  free  the 
**  mind  from  false  and  vain  opinions,  and  gieat  ig- 
*'  norance,  and  raise  it  to  the  contemplation  of  hea- 
*'  venly  things,  in  the  knowledgeof  which,  if  a  man 
*'  so  conduct  himself  as  to  be  content  with  his  lot, 
*'  and  with  the  accidents  of  life,  and  dms  aspire  af- 
*'  ter  a  moderate  and  temperate  life',  he  is  in  the 
"  way  to  true  felicity.  And  certainly  he  to  whom 
"  God  has  given  this  lot  is  led  by  the  truest  opini- 
*'  onsto  the  most  happy  life.  But  if  on  the  other 
"  hand  any  be  refractoiy,  and  will  not  obey  diese 
*'  sacred  precepts,  he  will  be  amenable  to  those 
*'  la\vs  which  denounce  both  celestial  and  infernal 
-**  punishments.  Unrelenting  punishments  await 
"  the  unhappy  manes,  and  other  tilings  mentioned 
*'  by  the  Ionic  poet,  as  derived  from  tradition,  by 
"  the  hearing  of  which  he  wished  to  draw  the  minds 
"  of  men  to  religion  and  purity.  On  this  account 
"  I  approve  of  his  conduct.  As  we  cure  diseased 
"  bodies  by  unwholesome  medicines  if  they  will  not 
"  yield  to  those  that  are  wholesome,  so  we  restrain 
*'  minds  with  deceitful  discourses,  if  they  will  not 
*'  yield  to  true  ones.  On  this  account,  too,  fo- 
*/  reign  punishments   are  denounced,"  (tjiat  is, 

C  5?  such 


4i9  Op    THE    PIIILOSOPKY 

such  as  were  believed  by  foreign  natioub,)  ''  a^tlic 
"  transmii^ations  of  souls  into  \'arious  bodies, 
**  viz.  those  of  the  idle  into  the  bodies  of  women, 
"  murderers  into  those  of  wild  beasts,  of  the  libicli- 
"  nous  into  those  of  hogs  or  beara,  of  tlie  light  an4 
*'  rash  into  fowls,  of  ihc  idle  and  foolish  into  aqua- 
"  tic  uiiimalb"  (Gale's,  Op.  Myth.  p.  565.  566.) 
&c.  Certainly  the  man  a\  ho  cotild  write  this'  could 
have  no  belit  f  of  any  future  punishment  of  the 
wicked,  ^\hateA  er  he  might  think  of  the  state  of  the 
virtuous  after  death. 

But  when  the  question  luhat  is  death  was  put  to 
Secundus,  his  answer  is  decisively  against  any  fu- 
ture state  at  all.  >'  It  is,"  he  says,  *'  an  eternal 
*'  sleep,  the  dread  of  the  rich,  the  desire  of  the  poor, 
*'  the  inevitable  event,  the  robber  of  man,  the  flight 
**  of  life,  and  the  dissolution  of  all  things."  (Gale's, 
Op.  M}-th  p.  Gil.)  Such  were  the  comfortless 
prospects  of  this  philosophy  in  its  most  advanced 
state.  "What  a  \\  retched  choice  ^\■ould  a  christjan 
make  by  exchanging  liis  religion  for  tins. 


S£CTI-' 


^F    PYTHAGORAS.  45 

Section  IV. 
Of  Got)d  afid  Eijil.,  Virtue  and  Vke. 

The  writings  of  the  Pythagoreans  contain  num- 
berless excellent  m'oral  maxims  and  precepts^  ex- 
pressed in  the  most  forcible  language,  and  their  ac- 
count of  what  is  good  IS  agreeable  to  common  sense, 
%vhich  we  shall  see  was  not  the  case  ^^■ith  many  of 
the  philosophers  who  came  after  them. 

"  Some  goods,*"  says  Archytas,  "  are  desired 
*'  on  tlicir  own  account,  some  on  the  account  of  o- 
*'  ther  things,  and  a  third  bodi  for  their  omti  sake, 
*'  and  that  of  other  things.  What  then  is  that 
*'  good  which  is  desired  on  its  outi  account,  and 
"  not  for  the  sake  of  any  thing  else  ?  It  is  happi- 
*'  ness.  For  the  sake  of  this  we  desire  every  thing 
*'  else,  but  diis  for  the  sake  of  nothing  further. 
"  (Gale's,  Op.  Myth.  p.  674.)  A  good  man  is  not 
*'  immediately  and  necessarily  happy,  but  a  happy 
*'  man  must  be  good.  You  musj  not,"  says  De- 
mophilus,  "  hastily  pronounce  that  man  happy 
f  who  depends  upon  any  thing  that  is  liable  to 
''  change  and  decay,  but  on  himself,  and  on  God. 
f'  This  only  is  firm  and  stable."  (lb.  p.  624.) 

There 


44  CJT    THE    PiEiLoscyriiy 

There  was  a  gicat  dcj^rcc  of  aiistenty  in  the  dis- 
cipline, and  p^enera]  maxims  of  the  Pjthagoreans, 
vvhicli  forljade  all  unncccssar\'  £.;n  'ifications.  Vv'ith 
respect  to  theeommerre  of  the  sexes,  OeelKis  Lu- 
canus,  (Ch.  4.  Gale's  Op.  Myth.  531.)  says,  *'  God 
"  gave  pioper  instruments,  and  appetites,  to  men 
**  not  forthe  sake  of  pleasure,  but  for  the  propagation 
"of the  species.  Iftherebeany  commerce  with 
"  women  with  any  other  view,  the  offspring  will  be 
*'  the  banc  of  society.  They  will  be  ^\icked  and 
"  miserable,  hateful  to  God,  to  demons,  and  to 
*'  men,  and  also  to  families  and  states.  For  this 
*'  reason,"  he  adds,  "  laws  were  made  in  Greece 
*'  that  men  should  have  no  commerce  with  their 
"  own  mothers,  daughters,  or  sisters,  nor  in  any 
*'  sacred  place,  or  in  public."  He  also  says  that 
"  all  commerce  eontrar\'^  to  nature"  by  which  he 
no  doubt  meant  sodomy,  "  must  be  prevented." 

Many  of  the  Sentences  of  Dcmopliilus  breathe 
such  a  spirit  of  devotion,  lliat  they  iire  justly  sus- 
pected of  a  purer  source  than  any  heathen  pliiloso- 
phy.  On  this  account  I  shall  quote  but  few  of 
them.  ''  Do  not  ;isk  of  God  what  you  cannot 
**  keep ;  for  no  gill  of  God  can  be  taken  from  you. 
<•'  He,   therefore,  will  not  ^ve  what  you  cannot 

"  keep. 


OF    PYTHA.CORAS.  ^S 

ketp No  .gift  of  God  is  greater  llian  vir- 

'  tiie A  frugal  and  poor  plilosopher  lives  a 

<  life  like  to  that  ofGod/and  he  considers  it  as  the 
'  greatest  wealth,  that  he  possesses  nothing  exter- 

*  nal  (tliat  is  out  of  his  control)  nothing  unneces- 
'  sary.  For  the  acquisition  of  riches  inflames  co- 
'  vetousness,   but  to  live  well  and  happily  nothing 

'is  requisite  but  to  act  justly Being  born 

'  of Grod,  and  lia\ing  our  root  in  him,  ^ve  should 
'  adliere  to  it.     For  springs  of  A^^ater,  and  the  pro- 

*  ductions  of  the  earth,  dry  up,  or  putrefy,  when 

'  cut    off    from   their    respective    sources 

'  It  is  impossible  that  the  same  person  should  be 
'  addicted  to  pleasure,  or  the  acquisition  of  riches, 
'  and  be  devoted  to  God.  And  though  he  should 
'  sacrifice  hecatombs,  he  is  the  more  impious,  and 
'  farther  removed  from  religion  and  God."  (Gale's, 

Op.  Mydi.  p.  620,  625.) 

But  what  are  the  best  maxim.s,  precepts,  or  e- 
yen  laws,  without  proper  sanctions  ?  They  will  be 
admired,  and  respected,  by  those  who  are  previous- 
ly disposed  to  observe  them  ;  but  on  others,  which 
is  the  tiling  principally  to  be  aimed  at,  they  will 
have  no  effect  whatever ;  but  may  even  be  ridicul- 
ed, and  openly  disregarded.  And  what  are  the  pro- 
per aeiKtions  of  virtue  and  piety,  wbacii  evidently 

h^ve 


40  or    THE     PHILOSOPHY,    &C. 

not  always  any  rewiird  in  this  life,  but  that  provi- 
dence of  Cod  which  extends  to  another,  and  with 
this  the  P}  thagoreaji  philosophy  ^\as  not  pro* 
vidcd. 


SOCRATES 


47 


SOCRATES   AND  JESUS 
COMPARED. 

INTRODUCTION. 

X  HE  history  of  Socrates  is  so  singular  a  pheno- 
menon in  the  heathen  world,  and  his  general  beha- 
viour, and  the  manner  of  life  to  which  he  devoted 
himself,  have  in  tliem  so  much  that  resemble  those 
of  the  ancient  prophets,  and  e\'en  of  our  Saviour, 
that  they  ha-'/e  alwaj^s  drawn  the  particular  attenti- 
on of  the  friends  of  diA'ine  revelation ,  tliough  these 
have  formed  very  different  opinions  on  the  subject. 
If  we  look  into  any  account  of  the  Grecian  phi- 
losophers who  preceded  Socrates*  or  who  followed 
him  (and  some  of  the  most  eminent  of  the  latter 
were  his  professed  disciples)  we  shall  find  none  of 
them  to  resemble  him,  even  in  the  general  features 
of  his  conduct,  though  his  education  as  a  philoso- 
pher was  in  all  respects  the  same  with  theirs ;  and 
they  all  fell  far  short  of  him  with  respect  to  purity  o/ 
moral  character. 

If  we  may  depend  upon  what  is  transmitted  to 


4S  tOCRATES     AK» 

US  concerning  him  by  Xenophon  and  Plato,  who 
were  his  cotcmporaries  and  disciples,  both  men  of 
great  eminence,  (and  there  were  no  writer*  in  the 
hcatlien  w  orld  whose  characters  stand  higher  than 
theirs)  he  was  a  very  extraordinary  man  ^vith  re- 
spect both  to  wisdom  and  \irtiic.  And  as  Socrates 
had  enemies  as  well  as  friends,  imd  his  accusers 
must  have  had  their  friends  too,  had  the  accounts 
of  Xenophon  or  Plato  not  been  in  the  main  agreea- 
ble to  truth,  it  would  have  been  in  our  power,  ^as 
the  age  abounded  with  writers)  to  perceive  some 
trace  of  their  objections.  But  nothing  of  this  kind 
appears. 

From  both  these  accounts  we  must  conclude  4 
that  Socrates  was  a  man  who,  from  early  life,  not 
only  abstained  from  vice  himself:  and  practised  e- 
very  thing  that  he  thought  to  be  a  virtue,  but  one 
who  devoted  himself  to  tlie  promoting  of  virtue  in 
others ;  continually  throwing  himself  in  the  waV  of 
every  person  whom  hetlioughthe  could  benefit  by 
his  exhortations    or    instructions ;    that  by  this 
means  a  considerable  number  of  young  men,  espe- 
cially those  of  die  best  families,  of  much  consider- 
tionand  wealdi,  intlie  city  of  Athens,  were  strong- 
1}^  attached  to  him ;  and  yet,  that  tliough  he  was 

poor 


JESUS    COMPARED  49 

poor,  and  many  of  them  were  rich,  he  never  accept- 
ed of  any  reward  for  his  instructions. 

In  his  conduct  as  a  citizen  he  was  most  uncor- 
rupt  and  fearless,  risking  his  popularity,  and  even 
Iiis  life,  rather  than  consent  to  any  tiling  that  ap- 
peared to  him  unjust.  When  he  was  falsely  ac- 
cused he  behaved  with  the  greatest  magnanimity  at 
hjs  trial,  and  when  sentence  of  death  was  passed  up- 
on him  he  yielded  to  it  with  the  greatest  calmness. 
He  refused  to  solicit  for  any  abatement  of  the  sen- 
tence as  a  favour,  and  declined  all  the  offers  of  his 
friends  to  assist  him  in  an  escape  from  prison. 
When  the  fatal  cup  was  brought  to  him,  he  di'ank 
it  with  the  greatest  readiness  and  composure,  and 
died  with  much  apparent  satisfaction. 

The  sentiments  and  principles  of  such  a  man  as 
this,  who  lived  in  the  most  polished  city  of  Greece, 
at  u  period  the  most  distinguished  for  every  thing 
that  can  contribute  to  fame,  in  arts,  science,  or  po- 
licy, and  yet  the  most  addicted  to  idolatry  of  any 
city  in  Greece,  certainly  deserves  to  be  investiga- 
ted, and  his  conduct  to  be  scrutinized ;  and  this  I 
shall  endeavour  to  do  in  the  best  manner  that  the 
materials  we  are  furnished  with  will  enable  me. 


D. 


£0  SOCRATES    ANU 

Section   I. 

Of  the  Polytheism  and  Idolatry  of  Socrates. 

That  Socrates  was  an  idolater,  or  a  x\ orshipjx^r 
of  a  multiplicity  of  Gods,  and  such  as  were  ac- 
knowledged by  his  countrymen,  and  that  he  con. 
formed  in  all  respects  to  tlic  popular  modes  of  wor- 
ship, cannot  be  denied.  "  He  sacrificed,  says  Xe- 
*'  nophon,  (p.  2.)  both  on  the  public  altars  of  the  ci- 
'*  ty,  and  often  at  his  own  house ;  and  he  also  prac- 
♦*  ticed  divination  intlie  most  public  manner."  On 
trial  he  said,  (p.  377.)  "  he  had  never  sacrificed 
"  to,  or  acknowledged,  or  sworn  by,  or  even  made 
*'  mention  of,  any  gods  but  Jupiter,  Juno,  and  o- 
*'  thers  that  wqyc  received  by  his  fellow  citizens. 
"  Do  not  I  believe,"  says  he,  (p.  3.)  "  that  the 
"sun,  and  the  moon,  are  gods  as  well  as  odiers  ?" 
*'  Do  we  not  suppose  demons"  (and  one  of  these  he 
acknowledged  to  have  giAcn  particular  attention  to 
him)  "  to  be  either  gods,  or  the  sons  of  gods, " 
(p.  21.)  And  in  his  last  moments,  after  he  had 
drunk  the  poison,  recollecting  a  vow  that  he  had 
made  to  sacrifice  a  cockto.i'Esculapius,  he  desired 
Crito,  a  pupil  and  particular  friend  of  liis,  to  dis- 
charge 


JESUS    COMPARED  51 

charge  it  for  him,  and  begged  that  he  would  not 
neglect  to  do  it,  (p.  186.)  Though  on  one  occa- 
sion  he  speaks  of  one  God  that  constructed  and  pre- 
serves the  world,  (p.  318.)  he  does  not  say  that  he 
was  the  only  God. 

All  heathens  and  idolaters,  civilized  or  uncivili- 
zed, were  addicted  to  divination  ,  imagining  tliat 
by  this  means  they  could  pry  into  futurit}^,  and  find 
out  what  their  gods  signified  by  certain  signs,  as 
the  flight  of  birds,  the  form  of  the  livers  of  the  ani- 
mals tliey  sacrificed,  and  many  other  things,  which 
are  generally  considered  as  accidents.     Socrates 
was  so  far  from  seeing  the  folly  of  these  observan- 
ces, that  he  was  to  an  immoderate  degree  assidu- 
ous in  his  attention  to  them.     Being  of  opinion, 
(p.  8.)  that "  the  gods  signified  their  will  by  divina- 
"  tion  to  those  M^hom  they  were  disposed  to  fa- 
"  vour."     Whenever  he  was  in  doubt  about  any 
thing  of  importance,  he  sent  some  of  his  friends  to 
consult  the  oracle  (p.  5.)  and  he  advised  his  friends, 
if  they  had  occasion  for  the  knowledge  of  any  thing 
that  they  could  not  attain  to  themselves,  to  apply  to 
the  gods  in  the  modes  of  divination,  (p.  352 ;)  Say- 
ing, that   "  they  who  would  regulate  either  their 
"  own  affairs,  or  those  of  the  state,  stood  in  need  of 
"  tliese  practices."  (p.  5.) 

D  2.  Besides 


52  SOCKATJiS    A\D 

Besides  ha\  ing  Rcoursc  to  tlie  usual  modes  of 
divination,  Socrates  believed  tliat,  iii)on  e\ery  oc- 
casion of  importance,  the  n  ill  of  the  gods  was  signi- 
fied to  himself  in  particular,  but  in  what  manner 
he  does  not  cleai'ly  say.  He  sometimes  calls  it  a 
i-n'ice  ((I>a;r<)  p.  28.  At  his  trial  he  said  he  had  of- 
ten been  heard  to  sa}'  that  a  divine  voice  was  fre- 
quently present  Avith  liim. 

Notw  ithstanding  all  this  evidence  of  the  polythe- 
istic sentiments,  and  corresponding  practice,  of  So- 
crates, Rollin  and  others  suppose  him  to  b^Ac been 
a  believe  r  in  the  dhhie  unity ^  and  to  have  been  sen- 
sible of  the  absurdity  and  folly  of  all  the  popular 
superstitions,  and  of  the  popular  ^\orship  of  his 
country.  But  I  am  far  from  seeing  any  suffici- 
ent evidence  of  this.  If  he  had  had  the  -w  eakness, 
which  however  is  never  ascribed  to  him,  to  conceal 
this  before  his  judges,  he  might  have  avowed  it  be- 
fore his  death,  bearing  a  dying  and  most  honoura- 
ble testimony  to  important  truth;  \\hereas,  on 
both  these  occasions,  his  language  and  conduct 
were  the  very  reverse  of  ^\  hat,  on  the  supposition 
of  this  superior  knowledge,  they  ought  to  have 
been.  Indeed  I  much  question  whedier  any  per- 
son educated  aj,  Socrates  A\as,  among  pol}Uieists 

imd 


JES-trs    COMPARED.  5j. 

unci  idolaters,  could  possibly,  by  the  mere  light  of 
nature,  have  attained  to  a  firm  belief  of  the  divine  u  - 
'nity,  though  he  might  in  some  degi-ee, have  been 
sensible  of  the  folly  and  absurdity  of  the  prevailing 
superstitions. 


Section   II. 

I'he  Sentiments  of  Socrates  concerning  the  Gods, 
and  their  Pvffvidence. 

A  polytheist  and  idolater  as  Socrates  was,  he  had 
just  and  honourable  sentiments  concepii^S  the  di- 
vine power  and  providence,  and  of  the  obedience 
that  men  owe  to  the  gods.  And  though  his  ideas 
on  these  subjects  are  far  short  of  what  ^ve  find  in 
the  Psalms  of  David,  and  the  writings  of  the  He- 
brew prophets,  the}'  are  much  more  rational  and 
sublime  than  the  opinions  of  the  heathens  in  gene- 
ral, or  those  of  the  philosophers  that  followed  him. 

We  have  seen  that  Socrates  ascribed  to  a  god 
the  formation  and  government  of  the  ^vorid,  where- 
as, according  to  Hesiod  (^hose  iheogony  was,  no 
doubt,  that  which  was  generally  received  by  the 
Greeks)  the  world  had  been  from^  eternity,  and  the 
origin  of  the  gods  was  subsequent  to  it.  Socrates 
JD  3.  point 


54  SOCRATES    AND 

points  out  in  particular  the  wisdom  and  goodness 
of  providence  in  the  disposition  of  the  different  sen- 
ses andtlie  several  paits  of  the  human  body,  as 
that  of  the  eyes,  the  eye-lashes,  and  eye-lids ;  and 
in  the  structure  of  the  teeth,  A\hich  in  tlie  different 
animals  are  shaped  and  situated  in  the  most  conve- 
nient manner,  the  best  adapted  to  their  resix;ctive 
uses  (p.  62.)  He  had,  no  doubt, the  same  opinion  of 
the  wisdom  and  goodness  displayed  in  the  structure 
and  disposition  ofever}^  tiling  else  in  nature. 

He,  moreover,  believed  that  the  gods  know  eve- 
ry thing  that  is  not  only  said  or  done,  but  that  is 
even  thought  and  intended,  though  ever  so  private- 
ly ;  being  present  in  all  palaces  ;  so  that,  whenever 
they  think  proper,  they  can  give  intimations  to  man 
of  every  thing  relating  to  them,  (p.  14.).  *'  The 
"  deity"  (T<3  5--/ov)hesays,  (p.  65.)  "  sees  and  hears 
"  all  things,  is  every  where  present,  and  takes  care 
*'  of  all  tilings."  And  he  makes  this  obvious  and 
practical  use  of  tlie  doctrine,  viz.  that  "if  men  be- 
*'  lieved  it,  they  would  abstxiin  from  all  base  acti- 
*'  ons  even  in  pri\^ate,  persuaded  tliat  nothing  that 
*'  they  did  was  unkno\\'n  to  the  gods."  (p.  70.) 

The  gods,  he  also  thought,  know  ever}' thing 
that  is  future,  though  they  conceal  the  knowledge 
of  those  things  fi  om  men  in  general ;  so   tliat, 

*'  though 


JESUS    COMTARED.  SB 

"  though  a  man  built  a  house,  he  could  not  be  ecr- 
"  tain  that  he  should  inhabit  it,  nor  could  a  general 
*'  be  sure  whether  it  would  be  proper  for  him  to 
"  march  his  army,  &c."  (p.  6.)  Agreeably  to  this, 
it  was  his  custom,  in  his  prayer  to  the  godb,  to  re- 
quest that  they  would  grant  him  Avhat  \vas  good, 
without  specifying  what  he  wished  for ;  since  they 
best  knew  what  was  so.  (p.  45.)  Like  the  hea- 
thens in  general,  he  considered  lightning  as  com 
ing  more  immediately  from  the  gods,  as  one  mode 
of  giving  intimations  to  men.  (p.  312.) 

According  to  Socrates,  it  is  tlie  gods  that  have 
made  the  distinction  between  men  and  the  inferior 
animals,  having  given  them  rational  souls,  so  that 
they  only  know  that  there  are  gods,  and  can  wor. 
ship  them.  *'  There  is  no  such  principle  and  ex- 
*'  cellent  quality,"  he  said  "  in  the  brutes ;  and  in 
"  consequence  of  this  superiority,  men  are  like 
*'  gods  with  respect  to  other  animals,"  (p.  66.) 

Speaking  of  the  goodness  of  the  gods  to  man,  he 
says,  (p.  306.)  *'  they  supply  us  not  only  with  ne- 
"  cessaries,  but  with  things  that  are  adapted  to  give 
"  us  pleasuae."  He  mentions  particularly  as  their 
gifts,  water  and  fire,  the  grateful  and  useful  change 
9f  the  seasons,  and  our  various  senses,  adapted  to 
D  4.  peculiar 


56  SOCRATEo    ANB 

peculiar  species  of  good.  "This,"  he  says,  (p.  310.) 
"  shews  their  concern  for  us." 

Socrates  eoasidered  all  unwritten  laws,  obligato- 
rv  on  man  in  society,  the  origin  of  which  cannot  be 
traced,  as  having  the  gods  for  their  authors.  A- 
mong  these  he  mentions  the  universal  maxim,  that 
the  gods  ought  to  be  worshipped,  (p.  327.)  that 
gratitude  is  due  to  benefactors,  that  parents  ought 
not  to  have  sexual  commerce  \\  ith  their  children, ' 
and  all  other  universally  acknowledged  principles 
of  morality. 

In  answer  to  the  objection  from  our  not  seeing 
the  gods,  he  mentions  several  things  in  nature,  the 
existence  and  po\vers  of  which  cannot  be  denied, 
and  which  are  invisible  or  inscrutable  by  us,  as 
lightning,  the  wind,  and  the  intellectual  powers  of 
man;  "  Thus,"  says  he,  (p.  313.)  "  when  we  see 
*'  the  powers  of  ihe  gods,  we  must  reverence  tlicm, 
*'  though  we  do  not  see  them." 

Nothing  can  exceed  the  respect  that  Socrates  en- 
tertained  for  the  authority  and  will  of  the  gods, 
whenever,  and  in  ^vhatever  manner,  it  w  as  made 
known.  "  If,"  says  he,  (p.  51.)  "  the  gods  signi- 
*'  fy  their  will,  wc  must  no  more  depart  from  it, 
"  and  take  other  counsel,  thmi  wc  should  prefer  tlie 
"conduct  of  a  blind  man,  who  did  not  know  die 

*'  road, 


JESUS    COMPARED.  57 

**  road,  to  that  of  one  who  saw  it  and  knew  it ;  al- 
**  ways  prefering  the  direction  of  the  gods,  to  that 
**  of  men.'* 

Agreeable  to  this,  when  he  was  addressing  his 
judges,  he  said,  (p.  40.)  that  "ifthey  would  acquit 
*'  him  on  condition  that  he  would  discontinue  his 
"  instructions  to  young  persons,  \A'hich  he  bcliev- 
"  edthe  gods  had  enjoined  him,  or  suffer  death,  he 
"  would  answer  that  he  must  obey  god  rather  than 
"  man  ;  and  that  if  they  should  bani'sh  him  to  an}'- 
*'  other  countiy,  he  should  think  it  his  duty,  to  do 
**  there  what  he  had  done  at  Athens."  (p.  40.) 
*'  Whatever  be  the  situation  in  which  a  man  is  piac- 
"  ed,  there,  he  said,  he  should  remain  at  an}-  risk, 
"  even  of  life,  (p.  23.)  dreading  baseness  more 
"  than  any  thing  else.  So  the  gods  having,  as,  I 
**  believe,  placed  me  where  I  have  been,  and  order- 
**  edme  to  remain  philosophizing,  and  scrutuil zing 
"  myself  and  others,  I  must  not  desert  that  station, 
"  for  fear  of  death,  or  any  thing  eke. " 

When  Aristodemus,  with  whom  he  was  dis- 
coursing on  this  subject,  said  that  he  did  not  deny 
tliat  that  there  were  gods,  but  he  thought  the}^  were 
too  great  to  stand  in  need  of  his  worship,  Socrates 
replied,  (p.  64.)  that  the  greater  tliey  were,  the  more 
they  were  to  be  honoured. 

D  5.  As 


58  SOCRATES    AND 

As  to  tlic  manner  in  which  the  gods  were  to  be 
honoured,  he,  like  other  hcatlicns,  thought  it  Avas  to 
be  determined  by  the  laws  of  ever}-  particular  coun- 
try. But  he  justly  thought  that  the  satisfaction 
the  gods  received  from  these  markr,  of  respect  did 
not  depend  upon  the  costliness  of  the  sacrifice. 
"  The  oifering  of  a  poor  man,"  he  said,  (p.  49.) 
**  is  as  acceptable  to  the  gods,  as  the  more  expen- 
**  sive  ones  of  the  rich.'* 


Section  III. 
Of  the  excellent  moral  Character  of  Socrates. 

These,  it  cannot  be  denied,  are  excellent  senti- 
ments, and  much  to  be  admired,  considering  the 
little  light  that  Socrates  had,  \iz.  that  of  nature 
only,  uninstructcd  by  any  revalation.  And  with 
him  these  sentiments  were  not  merely  speculative. 
His  whole  life  seems  to  have  been  strictly  conform- 
able to  them,  being  eminently  virtuous,  and  whol- 
ly devoted  to  the  service  of  his  fellow  citizens. 

Xenophon,  who  knew  him  well  (diough,  hav- 
ing been  his  pupil,  we  may  suppose  him  to  ha\e 
been  prejudiced  in  liis  favour)  gives  tlie  following 
general  account  of  his  character  and  conduct,  (p. 

359.) 


JESUS    COMPARFD.  59 

359.)  "  He  was  so  religious  that  he  did  nothing 
"  without  the  advice  of  the  gods.  He  was  so 
*'just,  that  he  never  injured  any  person  in  the 
**  smallest  matter,  but  rendered  every  service  in 
**  his  power  to  those  with  whom  he  had  any  con- 
*'  nection.  He  was  so  temperate  that  he  never 
"  preferred  what  was  grateful  to  what  was  useful. 
*'  He  was  so  prudent,  that  he  never  mistook  the 
"  the  worse  for  the  better ;  nor  did  he  want  the 
"  advice  of  others,  but  always  judged  for  himself. 
*'  In  his  conversation,  he  excelled  in  defining  what 
*'  was  right,  and  in  shewing  it  to  otliers,  reprov- 
*'  ing  the  vicious,  and  exhorting  to  the  practice 
**  of  virtue." 

'riiough  the  circumstances  of  Socrates  were  the 
reverse  of  affluent,  he  would  never  receive  any 
gratuity  for  the  lessons  that  he  gave,  as  all  other 
philosophers  and  public  teachers  did ;  and  by  this 
means,  as  he  said,  (p.  74.)  he  preserved  his  free- 
dom and  independence.  When  upon  his  trial  he 
was  urged  by  his  friends  to  supplicate  the  judges, 
as  was  tlie  universal  custom,  in  order  to  move  their 
compassion,  he  refused  to  ask  any  favour  even  of 
them  ;  being  of  opinion  that  this  was  contrary  to 
the  laws^  according  to  a^  hich,  and  not  according 
tofavour,  judges  ought  to  decide,  (p.  317.) 

In 


60  SOCRATES    AND 

In  all  the  changxis  in  the  political  state  of  the  tur- 
bulent city  of  Athens,  which  were  many  in  the 
time  of  Socrates,  he  adhered  inflexibly  to  what  he 
thought  to  be  just,  \\idiout  being  influenced  by 
hope  or  fear.  This  was  particularly  conspicuous 
on  two  occasions.  The  fii-st  was  v.  hen,  being  one 
of  the  judges  in  the  case  of  the  ten  generals  who 
wei'e  ti'icd  for  tlieir  li^  es  on  account  of  tlieir  not  col- 
lecting am.!  bunting  the  dead  after  a  naval  engage- 
ment, and  all  tlie  rest  (influenced,  no  doubt,  by 
the  popuLu*  clamour  against  tliem)  condemned 
them  to  di  ?,  he  alone  refused  to  concur  in  the  sen- 
tence. Soon  after  the  citizens  in  general,  convin- 
ced of  the  injustice  of  the  sentence,  though  after  it 
had  been  canicd  into  execution,  appro>cd  of  his 
conduct.  The  other  w  as  during  the  government 
of  the  tliirty  tyrants,  when,  though  in  manifest 
danger  of  his  life,  he  refused  to  appi^ove  of  their 
measures ;  and  he  escaped  by  notliing  but  their  o- 
verthrow ,  and  the  cit}*  recovering  its  liberty-. 

That  Socrates  at  the  close  of  life  expressed  his 
satisfaction  in  his  own  conduct  Cv\nnot  be  thought 
extraordinaiT.  It  was,  he  observed,  (p.  366.)  in 
concurrence  widi  the  general  opinion  of  his  coun- 
trymen, and  with  a  declaiiuion  of  the  oracle  at 
Delphi  in  his  favour.     For  when  it  was  consulted 


JESUS    COMPARED.  61 

by  Ch?ert'phon,  one  of  his  disciples,  llic  answer 
was,  tliat  there  \v'as  no  person  iiiorc  honorable 
(sXsvBepoTioov)  more  just,  or  more  wise  *  tluu  he, 
(p.  371.) 

He  put,  however,  a  veiy  modest  construction 
on  this  oracle  ;  w  hich  was  that,  though  he  kticw 
no  more  than  other  men,  he  did  not,  like  them, 
pretend  to  know  more.  (p.  9.  12.)  so  that  he  only 
knew  himself,  and  his  own  ignorance,  better  than 
other  men.  His  reputation  in  consequence  of  it, 
and  of  his  conduct  in  general,  had  no  other  dian 
tlic  happiest  influence  upon  him.  For,  address- 
ing his  judges  (p.  34.)  he  observed,  that  "itbe- 
^'  ing  a  generally  received  opinion,  that  he  was  wi- 
"  ser  than  other  men,"  he  said  that  "  whether  diat 
*'  opinion  \vas  well  founded  or  not,  he  thought  he 
"  ought  not  to  demean  himself  by  any  unworthy 
"  action." 

Notwithstanding  Socrates's  consciousness  of  in- 
tegrity, and  genemi  merit,  and  the  good  opinion 
of  the  wise  and  virtuous,  he  was  so  sensible  of  the 

malice 

*  In  Xenophon  the  response  of  t/ic  oracle  Is  ex- 
pressed by  cra;(ppo!/cfT£p(^,  but  Plato  always  uses 
the  ivord  <ro(pooli()(^.  Cicero  in  referring-  to  it  us- 
es the  word  sapientissimus. 


62  SOCRATES     AKD 

malice  of  his  enemies,  that  when  he  was  brought 
before  his  judges  he  had  no  expectation  of  being 
acquitted,  and  therefore  he  expressed  his  surprize 
when  he  found  that  he  A\-as  condemned  by  a  majo- 
ritj'ofno  more  than  three  votes,  (p.  56.)  out  of 

500.* 

It  being  customar}-  at  Athens,  when  any  person 
was  found  guilty  of  the  charge  brought  against  him, 
to  require  him  to  say  what,  in  his  omti  opinion, 
his  punishment  should  be  ;  and  this  question  be- 
ing proposed  to  Socrates,  conscious  as  he  was  of 
no  demerit,  but  on  the  contrary-  of  his  valuable 
services  to  his  countr}- ;  he  said  that,  since  he  had 
made  no  gain  by  his  profession  of  public  instruc- 
tor, had  never  held  any  lucrative  office  in  the  state, 
and  he  ^-as  poor,  he  wsis,  like  other  persons  in  a 
similar  situation,  and  with  similar  claims,  enti- 
tled to  a  maintenance  at  the  public  expense  in  die 
Pr}-taneum,  (p.  37.)  If  they  destroyed  him,  he 
farther  said,  they  A\ouki  not  soon  find  another  like 

him,  (p.  27.)  This  has  the  appearance  of  \-anity 
and  ostentation.  But  if  the  praising  a  man's  self 
be  at  all  justifiable,  it  is  on  such  an  occasion  as 

this, 

*  Thisy  exclusive  of  the  presidatty  RoUin  suppo- 
ses to  haroe  been  the  number  of  the  judges* 


JESUS     COMPARED.  63 

this,  when  he  is  unjustly  censured  and  condemn- 
ed by  odiers. 


Section  IV. 

T/ie  Imperfection  of  Socrates''s  Ideas  concerning 
Piety,  and  Virtue  in  general. 

Just  and  sublime  as  A\'ere  the  sentiments  that 
Socrates  professed  concerning  the  power  and  pro- 
vidence of  the  gods,  and  of  the  obHgation  that  men 
are  under  to  reverence  and  worsliip  them,  his  ideas 
of  the  manner  in  which  this  was  to  be  done  were 
by  no  means  such  as  might  have  been  expected  in 
consequence  of  them.  According  to  him,  all  the 
duties  tliat  properly  rank  under  the  head  of  piety 
are  the  obseiTance  of  the  religious  rites  of  the 
countries  in  which  men  live.  "  The  gods,  he,; 
"  says,  (p.  338.)  are  not  to  be  honoured  by  every 
"  man  as  he  pleases,  but  as  the  laws  direct." 
This  was  agreeable  to  the  answer  received  from 
Delphi,  when  inquiiy  was  made  concerning  the 
manner  in  which  men  should  please  the  gods ;  for 
the  answer  returned  was,  "  by  compl\  ing  with  die 
<*  institutions  of  our  countr)-,"  (p.  313.)  After 
mentioning  this,  Socrates  added,  that  *'all  states 

had 


64  SOCRATES    AND 

"  had  decreed  that  the  *'  gods  are  to  be  placated 
*'  by  sacrifices,  according  to  tlie  faculties  of  each 
"  of  them."  (p.  314.) 

Now,  A\  hat  the  rites  of  the  heathen  religion  were, 
those  of  Athens  by  no  means  excepted,  is  well 
known.  Little  did  they  accord  AN'ith  any  just  sen- 
timents of  what  we  now  deem  to  he  piety ^  i.  e.  a 
reverence  for  the  perfections  and  pro^•idence  of  God, 
gi-cititiide  for  his  favours,  submission  to  his  w  ill,  in 
a  sti-ict  obedience  to  the  moral  precepts  he  has  en- 
joined, and  confidence  in  his  protection  and  favour 
in  consequence  of  it.  With  these  sentiments  sa- 
crifices, and  the  other  rites  of  tlie  heathen  religi- 
ons, had  no  connection  whate^'cr.  Radier,  they 
were  the  occasion,  and  provocatives,  of  licenti- 
ousness, and  lewdness,  as  must  have  been  well 
known  to  Socrates  himself. 

The  moraj  maxims  of  Socrates,  independent 
of  those  relatmg  to  religion,  are  admirable,  e- 
specially  his  saying,  (p.  83.)  that  *■'  there  is  no 
"better  way  to  true  glor)^  than  to  endeavour  to 
"  be  good  rather  than  seem  to  be  so."  But  his 
general  rule  conceniing  the  nature  of  justice,  in 
which  he  probably  included  virtue  in  general,  was 
that,  "  whatever  is  hnvful,"  or  agreeable  to  the 
laws,  "is just,"  (p.  321.  326.)  whereas,  nothing 

can 


JESUS    COMPARED.  65 

call  be  more  vaiiable  than  tlie  laws  of  particular 
states,  or  more  discordant  with  one  another. 

With  respect  to  the  subjects  of  religion  and  mor- 
als  in  general,  Socrates  always  professed  a  gieater 
regard  to  the  laws  than  reason  or  good  sense  will 
ustify,    though  he  might  be  induced  to  say  more 
on  this  subject  in  consequence  of  his  being  accus- 
ed of  being  no  friend  to  the  popular  religion,  and 
of  corrupting  youth  by  attaching  them  to  himself, 
to  the  neglect  of  their  parents  and  others.     And  it 
is  very  possible  that,  in  some  of  his  instructions  lie 
had  inculcated  duties  of  a  purer  and  higher  kind 
than  the  institutions  of  his  country  would  encou- 
rage or  authorize.     Such,  however,  might  be  ex- 
pected from  thesentimrntshe  generally  expressed. 

Considering  the  uTCtched  philosophy  of  the  So- 
phists, whose  ostentation,  and  absurdities,  Socrates 
exposed,  we  shall  not  wonder  at  the  advice  he  gave 
his  hearers  with  respect  to  tiie  principal  object  of 
their  pretended  science.  He  recommended  to  them 
the  study  of  Geography,  Astronomy,  and  the  scien- 
ces in  general,  only  so  far  as  they  were  of  practi- 
cal use  in  hfe,  (p.  350,)  but  he  particularly  dissuad- 
ed them  from  the  study  of  tJie  structure  of  the  uni- 
'oerse,  because,  he  said,  "  it  was  not  designed  to  be 
E.  *'  discovered 


Co  SOCRATES     AND 

*'  dibCovcTcd  by  man,  nor  could  it  be  agjccable  to 
*'  the  gods  to  Iiavc  th:!t  inf|uircd  into  which  they 
"  did  not  make  kno\\n  to  man."  For  nothin<^ 
could  be  more  presumptuous  than  tlie  manner  in 
which  tliose  Sophists,  and  the  philosophers  of  those 
times  in  general,  decided  concerning  this  great 
subject ;  and  u  ith  them  it  led  to  nothing;  of  unv 
real  value  with  respect  to  men's  conduct,  but  puff- 
ed them  up  with  conceit,  without  any  foundation 
of  reul  kno\\  ledge.  On  this  account  he  h  siikl  by 
Seiicra  to  have  reduced  all  philosophy  to  morals. 
Totamphilosophiamrc'Doca'ou  ad  mores y  Epist.  71. 

But  could  Socrates  have  seen  the  progress  that  a 
tiuer  philosophy  than  any  that  existed  in  his  time 
has  now  made,  and  how  directly  it  leads  to  the  most 
profou'.d  adnii  ration  of  the  works  and  providence 
of  God,  unfold.ng  the  wisdom,  power,  and  good- 
ness of  the  great  creator;  and  had  he  seen  the  con- 
nection which  this  reverence  for  God,  and  conse- 
quently for  his  laws,  has  (on  the  system  of  rcvela- 
tion)  with  moral  virtue, he  would  have  been  the 
first  to  lay  stiess  upon  it,  and  to  inculcate  it  upon 
his  pupils. 

As  the  laws  of  his  country,  w  hich  widi  Socrates 
Were  too  much  the  standard  of  right,  widi  respect 

both 


JESUS    COMPARED.  67 

both  to  religion  and  morals,  were  vei-}-  impeifecton 
many  stibjects,  we  do  not  wonder  that  he  did  not 
express  a  sufficient  indignation  (such  as  tliose  do 

who  are  acquainted  M'ith  the  purer  and  more  severe 
precepts  of  revealed  religion  relating  to  them)  at 
some  particular  vices,  especially  sodomy,  which 
the  laws  of  God  by  Moses  justly  punished  with 
death. 

Wlien  Critias,  then  his  pupil,  was  in  love  with 
Euthydemus,  and  avowedly,  as  it  should  seem,  for 
the  vilest  purpose,  lie  dissuaded  him  from  pursuing 
his  object ;  but  only  as  a  thing  that  ^^-as  illiberal, 
unbecoming  a  man  of  honour  and  delicacy.  "  It 
"  was"  he  said  "  begging  of  the  object  of  his  pas- 
"  sion  like  a  pauper,  and  for  a  tiling  that  would  do 
"  him  no  good,"  (p.  29.)  The  gratification  of  this 
passion  he  said,  resembled  a  hog  rubbing  himself 
against  a  stone,  (p.  30.)  This,  no  doubt,  shews  a 
contempt  for  this  vice,  but  no  sufficient  abhorrence  of 
it,  as  such  a  degradation  of  human  nature  ought  to 
excite.  When  another  of  his  pupils  gave  a  kiss 
to  a  son  of  Alcibiades,  who  was  veiy  beautiful,  he 
only  a^ked  whether  it  did  not  require  great  bold- 
ness to  do  it;  meaning  that,  after  this,  it  would  not 
be  easy  to  refrain  from  endeavouring  to  take  great- 
E2.  er 


fj8  SOCRATES    AN'D 

cr  liijcrtics  w  ith  him.  There  is  too  miith  of  picas- 
ajitr}',  and  too  little  of  seriousness,  in  this  mctliod 
ofeonsidering the  subject. 

A  similar  remark  may  be  made  on  the  interview 
that  Socrates  had  with  a  celebrated  courtesan  of  the 
name  of  Tiicocjota,  whom  he  liad  the  curiosit}-  to 
visit  on  account  of  what  he  had  hciird  of  her  extra- 
ordiiiiuy  beauty  and  elegant  form,  so  that  statuaries 
applied  lo  Ik  r  to  take  models  from  her;  and  to 
vhom  tlie  historian  says  she  exhibited  her  person 
as  much  as  decency  wotild  permit.  In  this  situa- 
tion Socrates  and  his  pupils  found  lier ;  but  in  the 
conversation  that  he  had  w  hli  her  he  discovered  no 
just  sense  of  the  impropriety  of  her  lifc  and  profes- 
sion. Slic  spake  to  him  of  her  galants  as  her  friends, 
who  contributed  to  her  support  w  ithout  labonr,^ 
and  Iioped  that  by  his  recommendation  she  should 
procure  more ;  adding,  "  How  shall  I  persuade 
*'  you  to  this."  He  replies,  "  This  }  oil  must  find 
*'  oiU  yourself,  and  consider  in  ^\  hat  way  it  may  be 
•'  in  my  po>ver  lo  be  of  use  to  you."  And  when- 
she  dcsiird  him  to  come  often  to  sec  her,  he  only 
jestingly  said^  that  lie  was  not  sufficiently  at  leisure 
from  other  engagements,  (p.  251.)  Ready  as  So- 
crates was  to  give  ^ood  ad>ice  to  young  men,  he 

said 


JESUS     COMPARED.  69 

said  nothing  to  her  to  recommend  a  more  viitKous 
and  reputable  course  of  life  than  that  which  he 
knevV  she  led. 

It  was  not  in  this  manner  that  Jesus  and  his  a- 
postles  would  have  conversed  witli  such  a  person. 
He  did  not  decUne  all  intercourse  with  women  oi 
her  character,  but  it  was  not  at  their  houses ;  and 
what  he  said  was  intended  to  instruct  and  reclaim 
them.  He  considered  tliem  ds  the  sick,  iuid  him- 
self as  tlie  physician. 

Women  of  the  profession  of  this  Theodota,  if  they 
had  been  M^ell  educated,  were  resorted  to  in  the 
most  open  manner  by  men  of  the  first  character  at 
Athens,  as  Aspasia  by  Socrates  himself,  and  by 
Pericles,  who  afterwards  mamed  her.  Nor  Avas 
fornication  in  general,  with  women  of  that  profes- 
sion, at  all  disreputable,  either  in  Greece,  or  at 
Rome. 

How  miich  more  pure  are  the  morals  of  Christi- 
anity in  this  respect.  So  great,  however,  was  the 
prevalence  of  this  vice,  and  so  little  had  it  been  con- 
sidered as  one,  in  the  heathen  world,  that  the  apos- 
tle Paul,  waiting  to  the  christian  churches  \\\ 
Greece,  and  especially  at  Corinth,  the  richest  and 
most  voluptuous  city  in  that  part  of  the  world, 
is  urgent  to  dissuade  his  converts  from  it.  See 
E  3.  i  particu- 


70  SOCRATES     AND 

t 

particularly  (1.  Cor.  vi.  9.  ^c.)  where  amongr 
those  who  would,  be  excluded  from  the  king^Jom 
of  hc-ivcn,  lie  mentions  fornicators  in  chf  first  place. 
Knoll)  ye  not^  that  the  unrighteous  shall  not  inherit 
the  kingdom  of  God.  Be  not  decei'ved;  neitlier  for- 
nicators^ nor  idolaters^  nor  adulterers^  nor  effemi- 
nate^ nor  abusers  of  themselves  with  mankind,  nor 
thieves,  nor  covetous,  nor  drunkards y  nor  revilers, 
nor  extortioners,  shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of 
God. 

Section   V. 

Of  Socrates'*  s  Belief  in  a  future  State. 

Though  Socrates  had  more  just  idea?  concerning 
tlie  nature  and  character  of  deity,  and  also  of  the 
nature  and  obligations  of  virtue,  than  tlie  generali- 
ty of  his  countrymen,  and  even  of  the  pliilosophers, 
he  docs  not  appear  to  ha\  c  had  any  more  know- 
ledge than  others  concerning  the  great  sanction  of 
virtue,  in  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state.  In  none  of 
his  conversations  recorded  by  Xcnophon  oa  the 
subject  of  virtue  with  young  men  and  others,  is 
there  the  least  mention  of  it,  or  allusion  to  it; 
which  was  certainly  unavoidable  if  he  had  been  real- 
ly acquainted  with  it,  imd  believed  it. 

Speak- 


JESUS    COMPARED.  71 

Speaking  of  tlie  happiness  of  his  virtuous  pu- 
pils, he  mentions  the  pleasure  the\^  would  have  in 
this  life,  and  the  respect  that  would  be  paid  to  them; 
and  says  that,  "  when  they  died  tlicy  would  not  be 
*'  without  honour,  consigned  to  oblivion,  but 
"would  be  for  ever  celebrated,  (p.  111.")  Hav- 
ing said  tliis,  could  he  have  forborne  to  add  their 
happier  condition  after  death,  if  he  had  had  any  he 
lief  of  it? 

All  his  dissuasives  from  vice  are  grounded  on 
some  na,tural  and  necessary  inconvenience  to  which 
men  expose  themselves  by  it  in  this  life,  but  none 
of  them  have  any  respect  to  another.  Thus  he  re- 
presents intemperate  persons  ^s  slaves  to  their  ap- 
petites, (p,  322.)  and  treating  of  w  hat  lie  consider- 
ed as  being  the  laws  of  nature,  and  therefore  as 
those  of  the  gods,  as  the  prohibition  of  marriage  be- 
tween parents  an(^  their  children,  (p.  828.)  he  only 
says  that  "  the  offspring  of  such  a  mixture  is  bad; 
*'  one  of  the  parties  being  too  old  to  produce 
"  healthy  children  ;"  and  this  reason  does  not  ap- 
ply to  the  case  of  brothers  and  sisters.  Another 
law  of  nature,  he  says,  is  to  do  good  in  return  for 
good  received  *,  but  the  penalty  of  not  doing  it  he 
makes  to  be  nothing  more  than  being  deserted  by  a 
E  4.  mm\'^ 


72-  SOCRATES    AND 

man's  friends  when  he  w  ill  have  the  most  want  of 
them,  and  to  be  forced  to  appl}'  to  tliose  who  have 
no  friendship  for  him.     {p.  329.) 

It  is  particularly  remarkable  that  notliing  th:it 
Xenophon  says  as  coming  from  Socrates,  not  only 
in  his  conversations  witli  his  pupils,  but  even  at 
his  ti-ial,  and  the  scenes  before  his  death,  implies  a 
belief  of  a  future  state.  All  tliat  we  have  of  this 
kind  is  from  Plato ;  and  though  he  was  present  at 
the  trial,  and  therefore  what  he  says  is,  no  doubt, 
entitled  to  a  considerable  degree  of  credit,  it  wants 
the  attestation  of  anot/i^r  witness  ;  and  the  want  o^ 
that  of  Xenophon  is  something  more  than  nega- 
tive; especiall}-  as  it  is  well  known  that  Plato  did 
not  scruple  to  put  into  the  mouth  of  Socrates  lan- 
guage and  sentiments  that  ne\er  fell  from  him  i  as 
it  is  said  Socrates  himself  observed,  w  hen  he  was 
shewn  the  dialogue  entitled  Lysis^  m  ^^•hich  lie  is 
the  principal  speaker,  as  he  is  in  many  others. 

In  Plato's  celebrated  dialogue  intiiled  Phosdo,  in 
which  he  makes  Socrates  advance  arguments  in 
proof  of  a  future  state,  wc  w.mi  tlie  evidience  of 
some  person  who  ^\•as  present ;  for  Plato  himself 
was  at  that  time  confined  by  sickness,  (P.  p.  74.) 
so  tliat  it  is  ver}-  possible,  as  nodiing  is  siiid  of  it  by 

Xeno. 


JESUS    COMPARED.  73 

Xenophon,  that  he  might  not  have  held  any  dis- 
course on  the  subject  at  all. 

Besides,  all  that  Socrates  is  represented  by  Plata 
to  have  said  on  this  subject  is  far  from  amounting 
to  any  thing  like  certain  knowledge,  and  real  bdief^ 
with  respect  to  it,  such  as  appears  in  the  discourses 
of  Jesus,  and  the  writings  of  the  apostles.  Socra- 
tes, according  to  Plato,  generally  speaks  of  a  future 
state,  and  the  condition  of  men  in  it,  as  ihi^  popular 
belief,  wliich  might  be  true  or  false.  "  If"  says 
he  (p.  46)  "  what  is  said  be  true,  we  shall  in  ano- 
*'  ther  state  die  no  more.  In  deatii  "  he  says  to 
"  his  judges*'  (p.  44.)  "  we  either  lose  all  sense  of 
*'  things,  or,  as  it  is  said,  go  iuto  soilie  other  place ; 
**  and  if  so,  it  will  be  much  better ;  as  we  shall  be 
*'  out  of  the  power  of  partial  judges,  and  come  be- 
*'  fore  those  that  are  impartial.  Minos,  Rhada- 
*'  manthus,  ^acus,  Triptolemus,  and  others,  who 
**  were  demigods."  Taking  his  leave;  of  them,  he 
"  says,  1  must  now  depart  to  die,  while  you  conti- 
^'  nue  in  life ;  but  which  of  these  is  better,  the  gods 
'*  only  can  tell ;  for  ill  my  opinion  no  man  can 
*'  know  this." 

This  certainly  implies  no  faith    on  which  to 

gi-ouhd  real  practice,  from  which  a  man  could, 

with  the  apostle,  line  as  seeing  things  invisible ^  be- 

E  5.  ing 


74  SOCRATES     AN'D 

ing  governed  by  a  regaixl  to  thcin  more  than  to 
things  present,  jhe  one  as  ccrtuin  as  the  other,  and 
infinitel}-  superior  in  vahie,  t/ic  things  that  are  seen 
hcin^  temporary^  luh'iU  those  t hit  arc  unseen  arc  e- 
ternal.     {2.  Cor.  iv.  10.) 

Notwithstanding  tliis  uncertainty  of  Socrates 
>\ith  respect  to  a  future  state,  he  died  \\ ith  great 
composure  and  dignity  ;  considering  liis  death  at 
tliat  time  as,  on  the  whole,  better  for  him  than  to 
live  any  longer  in  the  circumstances  in  which,  at 
his  time  of  life  (being  seventy  years  old)  he  must 
have  lived ;  especially  as  a  coward,  discovering  un- 
TJianly  dread  of  death,  in  exile  and  disgrace  ;  dy- 
ing also  without  torture,  surroundedby  his  friends, 
and  admirers,  who  would  ensure  his  fame  to  the 
latest  posterity. 

That  such  arguments  in  proofof  a  future  state  as 
Plato  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Socrates  should  really 
have  been  advanced,  and  have  have  any  stress  laid 
upon  them,  by  him,  in  so  serious  a  time  as  just  be- 
fore his  death,  is  exceedingly  improbable,  from  the 
extreme  futility  of  them.  They  arc  more  like  the 
mere  play  of  imagination,  Uian  die  deductions  of 
reason. 

His  first  argument  is,  that  as  every  thing  else  in 
nature  has  its  contrary,  death  must  have  it  also, 

iyid 


JESUS    COMPARED.  75 

and  If  so,  it  must  be  followed  by  life,  as  da}-  follows 
night,  and  a  state  of  mgiiaiice  alwaj^s  follows  sleep. 
(p.  56.)-  Bat  might  it  not  be  said  that,  for  the 
same  reason,  every  thing  that  is  bitter  must  some 
time  or  other  become  sweet,  and  eveiy  thing  that  is 
sweet  become  bitter  ? 

His  second  argument  is,  that  all  our  present  ac- 
quired knowledge  is  only  the  recollection  of  what 
we  knew  before  in  a  former  state,  (p.  100.)  But 
what  evidence  is  tliere  of  this  ? 

His  third  argument  is,  that  only  compound  sub- 
stances are  liable  to  corruption,  by  a  separation  of 
the  parts  of  which  they  consist ;  but  the  mind  is  a 
simple  substance,  and  therefore  cannot  be  affected 
by  the  dissolution  of  the  body  in  death,  (p.  111.) 
This  is  certainly  the  most  plausible  aigument  of 
the  three,  but  it  is  of  too  subtle  a  nature  to  give 
much  satisfaction.  If  the  mind  have  several  pow- 
ers and  affections,  and  be  furnished  with  4  multi- 
plicity of  ideas,  there  is  the  same  evidence  of  its  be- 
ing a  compound  as  there  is  withrespect  to  the  body; 
and  if  the  power  of  thinking,  or  mental  action,  bear 
any  resemblance  to  corporeal  motion,  it  may  cease, 
and  be  suspended,  though  the  substance  remain. 

Are  these  sufficient  arguments  for  a  man  at  the 

point 


76  SOCRATES    AND 

point  of  death  to  build  his  faith  and  hope  upon? 
As  this  appears  to  ha\-c  been  all  that  the  most  sa- 
gacious of  the  heatlicns  could  attain  to  by  the  light 
of  nature,  what  reason  have  \vc  to  tx-  thankful  for 
the  superior  light  of  revelation,  and  csjjccially  for 
the  gospel,  \vhich  i^nrigs  life  and  immortality  to 
light.  (2.  Tim.  i.  10.) 

Socrates  does  not,  in  this  celebrated  dialogue, 
make  any  mention  of  the  argument  from  the  um- 
'Dcrsal  belief  o{  a  future  state,  as  handed  do\\n  by 
tradition  in  all  nations  ;  \vhich,  though  far  short  of 
a  proper  proof  of  the  docUinc,  is  more  pluusiblc 
tlian  any  of  the  three  arguments  above  mentioned. 
For  it  might  be  presumed  tliat  the  ancestors  of  the 
human  race,  from  whom  the  tradition  descended 
to  their  posterity,  had  some  proper  evidence  of 
T-liat  they  delivered,  though  that  had  not  been  pre- 
served, the  doctrine  itself  only  being  retained. 
This,  indeed,  seems  to  have  been  the  case  with  re- 
spect to  the  Jews.  Though  tliey  \\ere  in  the  time 
of  our  Saviour  firm  believers  in  the  doctrin<L>  of  a 
resurrection,  tlx:  record  of  the  revelation  (for  it 
could  not  have  come  from  any  other  source)  had 
been  long  lost. 

How  far  short  is  every  thing  that  Socrates  is  re- 
presented  as  saying  of  the  perfect  assurance  with 

vliich 


JESUS    COMI^AE^ED  77 

Ivhich  Jesiis  always  spoke  of  his  resmrection  to  an 
immortal  life,  and  of  the  glory  that  was  prepared 
for  him  in  the  councils  of  God  from  tlie  foundation 
of  the  world;  when,  as  the  writer  of  the  epistle  to 
the  Hebrews  says  (-c.  xii.  20.)  foj-  the  joy.  that  was 
set  before  him,  lie  endured  the  cross,  despising  the 
shame,  and  is  set  down  at  the  right  hartd  of  the 
throne  of  God.  Ho\y  short  it  (Idls  of  the  confidence 
which  the  apostle  Paul,  in  the  near  view  of  deatli, 
expresses  with  ^-espect  to  his  future  prospects,  (2. 
Tim .  iv.  7. )  /  haije  fought  the  good  fight,  I  have 
finished  my  course,  I  ha'oe  kept  the  faith.  Hence- 
forth; there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteous- 
7iess,  which  the  Lord,  the  righteous  judge,  "(Jbill 
give  me  at  that  day  ;  and  not  to  me  only,  hut  to  all 
them  that  love  fiis  appearing.  With  ■\\'hat  satisfac- 
tion and  joy  have  thousands  of  christian  martyrs 
relinquished  this  life  in  the  assurance  of  a  better. 

Besides,  after  all  that  Socrates  advances  in  proof 
of  a  future  state,  he  seems  to  make  it  the  peculiar 
privilege  of  those  who  apply  to  philosophy,  who 
havein  some  degree abstraic ted  the  purer  mind  from 
the  gross  body  by  intense  meditation,  (p.  83.) 
"  This,"  he  saysy  (p.  94.)  "  was  intended  by  the 
"  authors  of  the  mysteries  when  they  said  that  non^ 
*^  besides  the  initiated  wqmW  live  with  the  gods  af- 

^*te» 


to  S-0  C  il  A  T  E  S    A  X  D 

'*  tcr  dcaili ;  for  that  by  tlie  initiated  were  meant 
•'  those  >\1k) philosophized  in  a  ri<rht  manner  (of>Bus) 
*'  and  that  whether  he  had  succeeded  or  not,  it  had 
*'  been  his  endeavour  through  life  to  do  so." 

According  to  tliis,  the  gnat  mass  of  mankind 
have  no  more  interest  in  a  future  state  dian  brute 
animals.  But  the  gospel  makes  no  diiference  in 
favour  of  philosophers,  or  any  odier  class  of  men. 
According  to  this,  all  that  are  in  the  grai^es  slicdl 
Jiear  the  'voice  of  the  son  of  man,  (John.  v.  28.)  am. 
shall  come  forth. ;  they  t/iat  ha'dc  done  good  to  the 
resurrection  of  life ^  and  they  that  have  done  evil  to 
the  resurrection  of  condemnation.  Then  too  (Rev. 
XX.  \S.)  the  sea  shall  give  up  t/ie  dead  that  is  in  />, 
and  every  man  shall  be  judged  according  to  hi.? 
ivorks. 


Sectiox   VI. 

Of  the  D^mon  of  Socrates. 

Much  has  been  advanced  on  the  subject  of  the 
damon,  as  it  is  commonly  called,  of  Socrates,  or 
that  divine  voice ,  as  he  termed  it,  which  gave  him 
^vamings  about  what  he  was  about  to  do,  if  it  Mas 

impro- 


JE:^ir3    COMPARED.  79 

improper  for  him,  and  which  was  e\  IJently  some- 
thh^  different  from  dmnatlan.,  to  which  he  often 
liad  recourse,  or  from  any  casual  cfnien  that  might 
occur  to  him.  This  he  said  had  accompanied  him 
from  his  youth ;  but  though  it  forbad  him  to  do 
certain  tilings  that  he  was  deliberating  about,  it  had 
never  prompted  him  to  any  particular  action,  fib.  J 
This  divine  voice  did  not  respect  his  own  conduct 
only,  but  sometimes  that  of  others ;  and  he  declar- 
ed that  whenever  he  had,  from  this  ^^'arning,  signi- 
fied tire  will  of  the  gods  to  any  of  his  friends,  he 
had  never  been  deceived  by  it.  (p.  370.) 

Speaking  of  his  general  manner  of  life,  and  plaii 
of  conduct,  in  devoting  his  time  and  talents  to  the 
instruction  of  others,  he  said,  (p.  ^2.)  it  had  been 
enjoined  him  "  by  the  gods,  by  oracles,  by  the 
<■<■  god"  (probably  meaning  that  paiticuUir  deity 
from  whom  he  had  the  hints  alcove  mentioned)  "  by 
*'  dreams,  and  every  other  node  in  whicJi,  by  dl- 
"  vination,  they  order  things  to  be  done."  This 
was  said  by  him  in  his  address  to  his  judges  ;  and 
he  added  that,  though  the  deity  had  checked  him 
in  the  smallest  things  tliat  he  was  about  to  do,  if 
they  were  improper  (p.  44.)  yet  that  when  he  was 
thinking  of  his  defence,  the  deity  had  thus  forbidden 

him. 


80  SOCRATES    A.VD 

him  to  make  aiiy,  and  this  not  only  once,  but 
twice,  (p.  365.)  nor,  while  he  was  then  speaking 
did  he  perceive  any  check  with  respect  to  any  part 
of  his  conduct,  (p.  44.)  He  therefore  concluded 
that,  since  this  divine  voice  liad  not  interfered  on 
this  occasion,  it  was  best  for  him  to  await  the  sen- 
tence of  his  judges,  though  they  should  condemn 
him  to  death.  "  The  situation  I  am  now  in,"  he 
said,  "did  not  come  to  me  by  chance;  for  no- 
"  thing  can  happen  amiss  to  a  good  man  \\ith  rc- 
*'  spect  to  life  or  deatli;  since  the  gods  never  ne- 
*'  gleet  him.  It  is,  therefore,  better  for  me  to  die 
*'  now,  and  to  be  exempt  from  all  fartlier  labours," 
(p.  47.) 

These  intimations,  in  whatever  manner  tliey  were 
communicated,  are  now,  I  believe,  generally 
thought  to  haxebeen  a  mere  illusion y  when  notliing 
really  supernatural  took  place.  Had  these  sugges- 
tions occurred  only  once  or  twice  in  the  cour^  of 
his  Hfe,  the  hypothesis  of  their  being  an  illusion,  or 
jnere  imagination,  might  have  been  admitted.  But 
they  had  attended  him,  he  said,  from  liis  youth,  an,d 
had  given  him  hints  not  only  respecting  liis  own 
conduch  (whicJi  by  his  account  had  been  yer}'  fre- 
quent) but  sometimes  that  of  his  frieixds;  «fnd  be- 
cause he  had  received  no  check  from  thi^  quarter 

with 


JESUS    COMPARED.  81 

^vith  respect  to  his  conduct  at  his  trial,  heconclud" 
ed  with  certainty  that  it  was  right,  and  would  have 
the  best  issue. 

Besides  the  admonitions  of  this  kind  which  were 
communicated  while  he  was  awake,  he  had  others 
he  says,  given  him  in  dreams.  One  of  these  he 
mentioned  just  before  his  death  ;  which  was  that 
he  should  apply  to  music.  On  this  he  had  put  va- 
rious constructions ;  and  lest  he  should  not  have 
hit  upon  the  true  meaning  of  it,  he  com.posed  w  hile 
he  was  in  prison,  a  hymn  in  praise  of  Apollo,  and 
turned  some  of  the  fables  of  ^Esop  into  verse, 
which  were  always  recited  in  a  musical  recitative. 

(P-  77.) 

This  might  have  been  nothing  more  tlian  a  com- 
mon  dream,  on  w^hich  he  put  an  uncommon  con- 
struction, in  consequence  of  imagining  tliat  there 
was  something  supernatural  in  it.  B.ut  tliis  could 
not  have  been  the  case  with  respect  to  the  hints  that 
he  received  when  he  was  a\vake,  whether  by  the 
fnedium  of  area!  voice,  or  in  any  other  way. 

In  no  other  respect  does  Socrates  appear  to  have 
httn  an  enthusiast.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  a 
man  of  a  calm  and  even  temper,  not  distinguished 
by  any  peculiarity  of  behaviour,  or  extravagance  of 
any  kind.     And  though  he  seems  to  have  addres- 

F.  sed 


82  5/)CRAT£S    AyiD 

bed  lilinsclf  to  every  person  to  whom  he  imagincci 
that  hiii  a(l\  ice  would  he  useful,  he  was  never  eharg- 
cd  with  iKing  impertinent,  so  as  to  give  oft'ence  to 
any.  On  the  contrary,  his  address  was  insinuating 
ynd  pleasing;  so  that  his  heiu^ers  in  general  were 
delighted  wih  his  conversation,  and  this  through 
the  course  of  a  long  life. 

Since,  then,  he  persisted  in  his  account  of  these 
admonitions  to  the  last,  and  in  the  most  serious  sit- 
I'.ation  that  a  man  could  l^e  in,  and  his  veracity  was 
never  qiiv.'st)oned,  though  I  am  far  fromfoimijng 
any  fixed  opinion  on  a  subject  of  so  p^'C'\t  obscuri- 
ty, I  thi.'ikit  may  admit  of  3  doubr,  whctJicr  ^lty 
r.:a  net  be  supposed  to  have  L.ome,  in  whatever 
manner  diey  were  given,  from  God.  I  do  not  see 
any  thing  unworthy  of  the  Divine  Being  in  his  dis- 
tinguishing this  extraordinary  man  in  diis  way. 
Being  no  judge  of  the  propriety  of  the  divine  con- 
duct, we  must  be  determined  in  every  case  of  this 
kind  by  die  cuidcncc  of  facts,  according  to  the  esta- 
blished rules  of  estimating  the  value  of  testimony 
in  general. 

These  admonitions  are  said  to  ha\e  been  proper 

to  the  occasions  on  which  they  A\'erc  delivered  ;   so 

that  leading  iogood,  if  they  came  from  any  superi- 

[  or  being,  it  must  have  been  a  m  ise  and  benevolent 

one. 


Jesus  compared  83 

one.  They,  would,  therefore,  tend  to  impress  the 
mind  of  Socrates,  and  those  of  his  numerous  disci- 
ples and  admirers,  with  an  idea  of  the  existence  of  a 
power  su|5erior  to  man,  though  not  in  a  manner  so 
decisive  and  convincing  as  the  express  re\^elations 
that  w^ere  made  to  the  Hebrew  prophets*  But  v/hy 
it  should  please  God  to  distinguish  any  on^  man, 
or  any  particular  nation,  with  his  peculiar  gifts, 
and  in  what  degree  he  should  do  this,  is  not  for  us 
to  say.  If  we  see  good  to  result  from  it,  we  ought 
not  to  cavil  or  complain,  but  be  satisfied,  and  thank- 
ful. 

That  in  an)'  manner  whatever,  and  in  what  degree 
soever,  it  shall  appear  that  the  maker  of  the  world 
gives  attention  to  it,  it  is  a  proof  of  the  realit}'^  of  a 
proindence  in  general,  and  of  the  divine  interference 
out  of  the  usual  course  of  the  laws  of  nature.  It  is 
therefoi'e  a  decisive  proof  of  a  great  and  important 
truth.  And  if  he  be  not  such  a  god  as  Epicurus 
and  other  philosophers  supposed,  one  who,  (whe- 
ther he  had  created  the  world  or  not)  sat  a  perfectly 
unconcerned  spectator  of  all  that  passed  in  it,  but 
really  interested  himself  in  thfe  affairs  of  men  by  oc- 
casional kiterpositions,  it  cannot  be  doubted  but 
that,  from  the  same  principle,  he  does  it  at  all 
F  2.  '  times,. 


S4  SOCRAlta    AS» 

times,  though  in  a  manner  less  apparent ;  and  that 
his  final  trcatnKnt  of  men  will  be  accoicimg  to  his 
proper  clwraeter,  \vhatc\cr  that  be,  if  he  be  a  right- 
eous and  good  be'mg,  he  will,  no  doubt,  most  ap- 
prove of  virtue  and  goodness  in  men,  and  show  it 
by  rcM-aiding  the  r*fgl>teous  and  punishing  tlic 
wicked. 

The  reason  why  tie  does  not  do  this  completely 
at  present,  though  we  are  not  without  some  intima- 
tions of  his  disposition  to  do  so,  it  is  not  dlilicalt  to 
ac  e-junt  for.  The.  e  must  be  time  and  opportunity 
to  Lrm  ch:irac*ers.     The  existence  of  vice,  as  well 

as  of  virtue,  in  the  \vorld  is  necessary  for  tliis  pu  r- 
pose ;  and  it  is  not  till  a  cliaracter  be  properly  form- 
ed that  a  suitable  trc^ment  can  be  adjusted  to  it. 
li  our  maker  think  of  us  at  all,  it  must  be  for  our 

good. 

Thus  do  such  siipcmatiiral  suggestions  as  Soc- 
rates asserts  that  he  had  aftbrd  some  obscure  and 
indistinct  e\'idence  of  a  moral  government  of  tlte 
vyorid^  and  consequently  of  a  future  state  of  righte- 
ous retribution.  Why  such  intimations  were  not 
more  frequent,  more  distinct,  or  more  general,  is 
beyond  our  compiehension.  If  we  be  asked  why 
the  ^^ise  and  beiKvolent  auUior  of  nature  painitted 
the  ribc  and  long  continuance  of  the  most  absurd 

and 


JEStTS     COMPAREB.  85 

jand  abominable  systems  of  polytheism  and  idolatry 
to  prevail  so  long  in  the  world,  or  why  he  should 
suffer  so  much  vice  and  misery  to  exist  in  it  at  pre- 
sent; why  mankind  should  be  afflicted  with  war, 
pestilence,  and  famine,  and  be  subject  to  such  dis- 
tressful accidents  as  lightning,  hurricanes,  and 
earthquakes,  we  can  only  say  with  Abraham  of  old, 
(Gen.  xviii.  25.)  that  the  maker  and  judge  of  the 
earth  will  do  "what  is  right ;  and  therefore  that  all 
these  evils,  repugnant  as  tliey  seem  to  our  ideas  of 
benevolence,  may  hereafter  appear  to  have  been  the 
best  methods  of  promoting  general  and  lasting  hap- 
piness, 

<If  the  present  state  be  considered  as  nothing 
Tsxort  than  the  infancy  of  our  being,  we  may  natu- 
rally expect  to  be  no  more  fible  to  account  for  our 
treatment  in  it,  than  a  child  is  able  to  account  for 
that  of  its  parent,  who,  thougli  ever  so  affectionate, 
must,  if  he  be  wise,  continually  do  what  the  child, 
cannot  see  any  reason  for,  and  what  he  must  think 
to  be  verj^  often  exceedingly  har^h  and  unreasona- 
ble.    And  as  appearances  in  nature,   and  in  the 
structure  of  the  world,  furnish  an  unqi^estionable 
proof  of  a  wise  and  benevolent  author,  the  present 
imperfect  state  of  viilue  and  happiness  does,  as 
such,  afford  some  evidcRce  that  this  is  the  infant 
F  3.  state 


66  SOCRATES     AND 

stiitc  of  our  being  ;  and  is  therefore  an  argument, 
and  a  promise,  as  ne  may  say,  of  future  good.  And 
slight  as  it  may  be,  and  less  satisfactory  than  we 
could  wish,  it  should  be  highly  grateful  and  ac- 
ceptable to  us. 


Section  VII. 

Of  Oic  Character^  and  Tcac/i'ing^  of  Socrates  com- 
pared with  tJiose  of  Jesus 

V/Iien  we  consider  what  was  most  obvious  in 
die  general  disposidon  and  behaviour  of  Socrates 
and  of  JcjUS,  we  see  no  apparent  difference  with 
respect  to  the  command  of  their  natural  appetites 
and  passions,  or  their  temper  in  general.  Both 
were  equally  temperate,  though  as  Jesus  Mas  not 
married,  an<l  was  never  chaj-ged  with  incontinence, 
he  shewed  a  command  of  his  natural  passions  iii 
this  respect  for  which  there  was  no  occasion  in  the 
case  of  Socrates.  Both  of  these  men  seem  to 
have  lx:en  equal)}-  free  from  austerity  and  morose- 
ncssin  their  general  behaviour,  being  equally  affa- 
ble, and  no  enemies  to  innocent  festivity  on  proper 
occaiiiojis. 

They 


JESUS    COMPARED.  87 

They  were  both  capable  of  strong  personal  at- 
tachments, as  Socrates  to  several  of  his  fiicnds  and 
pupils,  and  Jesus  to  the  family  of  Lazarus,  tq  his 
apostles  in  general,  and  to  John  in  particular.  And 
his  discourses  and  prayer  before  his  death  shows 
his  affection  for  them  in  the  strongest  manner.  Al- 
so his  attention  to  his  mother,  while  hung  upopL 
the  cross,  deserves  particular  notice  in  this  respect. 

Both  of  them  were  the  friends  of  virtue,  and  la- 
boured tp  promote  it;  but  Jesus  expressed  strong- 
er indignation  agaii^st  vice,  especially  the  vices  of 
die  great,  and  of  the  leading  men  of  his  country, 
against  whose  pride,  hypccrisy,  and  injustice,  he 
pronounced  the  most  vehement  and  provoking  in- 
vectives ;  whereas  Socrates  adopted  the  gentler  me- 
thod of  irony  and  ridicule, 

Thene  was,  I  doubt  not,  great  propriety,  as  well 
as  i^igenuity,  in  the  ironical  manner  that  Socrates  is 
said  to  have  very  often  used,  in  exposing  the  vices 
of  particular  persons ;  and  by  this  means  he  is  said, 
and  with  great  probability,  to  have  made  himself 
many  bitter  enemies.  But  there  was  certainly 
more  of  dignity  in  the  direct  and  serious  invectiveii 
of  Jesus,  such  as  his  saying,  (Mat^  xxiii.  13.  &c,) 
iVoe  tinio  you  Saibes  and  pharhecs^  hypocrites,  £f r. 

F4.  An4 


83  SOCRATES    AND 

And  let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  this  was  proix>u ne- 
ed by  the  son  of  a  caipcnter,  of  only  about  Uiirty 
years  of  age,  and  publicly  in  the  temple,  where  he 
was  alwa}  s  attended  by  great  multitudes  of  per- 
sons of  all  ranks,  and  tliat  no  reply  w  as  ever  made 
to  him  on  these  oceasions.  He  by  this  conduct 
made  liinistL'as  many  enemies  as  Socrates,  but  it 
was  In  a  manner  that  sho\\'ed  more  courage. 

Both  Jesus  and  Socrates  took  advantage  of  pre- 
sent incidents,  as  hints  for  their  instructive  dis- 
courses;  but  diose  of  Socmtes  have  the  appearance 
of  having  been  contri\cd  before  hand,  -while  those 
to  which  Jesus  alluded  were  such  as  naturally  pre- 
sented themselves  at  the  time. 

What  was  peculiar  to  Socrates  was  his  propos- 
ing to  his  hearers  a  series  of  questions,  by  means  of 
which  he  made  the  conclusions  he  wished  to  have 
drawn  seem  to  be  their  own  ;  so  tliat  all  objections 
were  precluded.  A  great  peculiarity  in  the  dis- 
courses of  Jesus,  though  his  manner  was  ve^^'^'ari- 
ous,  and  often  authoritatively  didactic,  which  that  of 
Socrates  never  was,  consisted  in  his  numerous /^at- 
ables^  die  meaning  of  which,  when  he  intended  it 
to  be  so,  was  sufficiently  obvious,  and  peculiarly 
striking ;  as  in  diose  of  the  rich  man  and  Lazarus, 
of  the  man  who  was  robbed,  and  nearly  murdered, 

on 


\  JESUS    COMPARED  69 

oii^his  way  to  Jericho,  and  the  peculiarly  fine  one 
of  the  prodigal  son,  and  therefore  more  easily  re- 
tained in  memory,  as  well  as  adapted  to  make  a 
stronger  impression  on  the  mind,  than  a  moral  les- 
son not  so  introduced  and  accompanied. 

At  other  times  there  was  an  intended  obscurity 
in  the  parables  and  sayings  of  Jesus.  He  did  not 
always  wish  to  be  understood  at  the  time,  but  to 
have  what  he  said  to  be  remembered,  and  reflected 
upon  afterwards.  Such  sayings  were  calculated 
to  engage  more  attention  from  their  being  expres- 
sed in  a  concise,  figuraj:ive  and  enigmatical  man- 
ner; as  when  he  said,  (John  ii.  19.)  Destroy  this 
temple  and  in  three  days  I  will  raise  it  up.  Such  a 
saying  as  this  would  not  be  forgotten.  His  ene- 
mies, we  find,  remembered  it,  and  his  fiiends 
would  understand  his  meaning  in  due  time ;  as 
they  would  his  saying,  (John  xii.  31.)  If  I  be  lift. 
ed  up  from  the  ^arth  I  ivill  draiv  all  men  unto  me  ; 
in  which  he  alluded  both  to  his  crucifixion,  his  re- 
surrection,  and  the  universal  spread  of  his  gospel. 

It  is  very  remarkable  that  there  are  not  in  the 
most  elaborate  compositions  of  the  antients  or  mo- 
dems any  parables  so  excellent  for  pertinency  to 
the  occasion  on  which  they  were  delivered,  for  pro- 
priety and  consistency  in  their  paits,  and  for  inv 

F  5.  portant 


90  SOCRATES    AND 

portant  meaning,  as  tliose  of  Jesus.  Numerous  as 
they  are,  they  all  appear  to  have  l)Len  unpamedi-' 
latcd,  as  th<n'  arose  from  circumstances  in  which" 
the  speaker  had  iio  clioice.  T!iei"e  is  noli ling trif- 
ling or  absUi  d  m  any  of  them ;  and  few  others, 
tlioughtlie  reiiidt  of  much  study,  are  froc  from  ob- 
jection of  this  kind,  h  .vill  not  be  supposed  that 
the  parables  ol  Je^us  received  any  improvement 
from  the  wTiiers  of  his  life,  and  yet  the  moie  they 
are  studied  llic  more  admii-able  tliey  iu-e  found 
to  be.* 

Both  the  discourses  and  the  general  manner  of 
life  of  Socrates  and  Jesus  have  an  obvious  resem- 
blance, as  they  both  went  about  graciously  doing 
good,  according  to  their  several  abilities,  situations, 
and  opportunities;  but  we  see  an  infinite  superior- 
ity \\ith  respect  to  Jesus,  though  he  had  no  such 

adAantiige 

*  On  this  subject  of  parables,  and  every  thing 
relating  to  the  internal  evidences  of  Christianity^  I 
would  particularly  reconmieJid  a  most  comprehen- 
sive and  excellent  work  of  Mr.  J.  Simpson's,  enti- 
tled. Internal  and  prcsumpti'veevideiiccs  of  Christian- 
ity considered  separately ^  and  as  united  to  form  one 
argument i  ISOl. 


JESUS    COMPARER.  91 

advantage  of  education  and  instruction  as  Socrates 
had. 

Socrates  had  all  the  advantage  that  education,  in 
the  most  poHshed  city  of  Greece,  and  the  most 
improved  period  of  it,  could  give  him ;  having 
been  enabled  by  the  generosity  of  a  wealthy  citizen 
to  attend  the  lectures  of  all  the  celebrated  masters 
of  his  time,  in  every  branch  of  science  tlien  knovi'n: 
£^d  with  respect  to  natural  capacity,  he  was  pro- 
bably equal  to  Jesus,  or  any  other  man. 

On  the  contrary,  the  circumstances  of  the  pa- 
rents of  Jesus,  and  bis  low  occupation  till  he  appear- 
ed in  public,  exclude  the  supposition  of  his  havinp* 
had  any  advantage  of  liberal  education.  This,  in- 
deed, was  objected  to  him  by  his  adversaries.  (John 

vii.  15.)  T/ie  jeivs  marvelled,  sayhigy  How  hwib- 
eth  this  man  letters^  hamng  never-  learned^  that  is, 
how  did  he  acquire  so  much  knowledge,  without 
being  regularly  instructed  by  the  professed  teach- 
ers of  the  lavv^  ? 

Notwithstanding  this  great  disadvantage;  we 
find  that,  without  any  previous  preparation  that 
was  visible,  Jesus,  from  his  very  first  appearance, 
assumed  more  authority,  as  a  teacher  and  reprover 
of  vice,  tlian  any  other  man  before  or  since ;  ad- 
dressing 


9^  SOCRATES    AND 

dressing  hrmself  to  great  multitudes,  ors'iixgle  per* 
sons,  the  most  eminent  for  their  rank  er  know- 
ledge, witliout  the  least  embarrassment,  '<md  with 
an  air  of  superiority  to  all  men ;  and  yet  witliout 
the  appearance  of  any  tiling  impertincai,  ostentati- 
OUb,  or  insulting. 

Had  Socrates  introduced  any  of  liis  instnictions 
with  Vcr'ily,   'verilyy   I  say  unto  yoii^  or  any   Ian. 
guagc  of  a  similar  import,  he  would  have  exposed 
himself  to  the  ridicule  of  his  audience,  even  io  tlie 
latest  period  of  his  life,  when  he  had  acquired  the 
greatest  respect  and  authority.     But  this  language 
was  usual  with  Jesus  from  the  very  first ;  as  in  his 
discourse  on  the  mount,  when,  Instead  of  being  in- 
sulted, he  by  this  very  means  excited  the  greater 
veneration  and  attachment,     for  we  read,  (Matt. 
\\\.  28. )   //  came  to  pass  ivhen  Jesus  had  ended  these 
sayings^  the  people  were  astonished  at  his  doctrine^ 
for  he  taught  them  as  one  havijig  autlwrity^  and  not 
as  the  scribes. 

How  must  any  other  man  than  Jesus  have  ex- 
posed himself  to  ridicule,  if,  when  sj)eakingof  the 
Ninevites  repenting  at  the  preachijig  of  Jonali,  and 
of  the  queen  of  Sheba  coming  from  her  own  distant 
countf)-  to  hear  tlie  wisdom  of  Solomon,  he  had  ad- 
ded, 


JESUS    COMPARED.  93 

ded,  as  Jesus  did,  but  a  greater  than  Ji-nahy  aiid  one 
greater  than  Solomon  is  here,  (Matt.  xii.  41.  &c.) 
But  for  any  thing  that  appears  he  was  heard  with 
the  greatest  awe  and  respect.     Infinitely  more  aiTo- 
gant  must  it  liave  appeared  in  any  other  man  to  say, 
as  he  did,  after  his  resurrection,  (Matt,  xxviii.  18.) 
All  pcvjer  is  given  unto  me  in  /i€ai}en  and  in  earth. 
Go  ye,  therefore,   and  teach  all  nations.     No  man 
but  one  who  had  actually  risen  from  the  dead,  and 
who  had  befc«"e  tliis  performed  such  mimcles  as 
convinced  his  hearers  that  he  had  a  commission 
fi'om  God,  could  have  used  such  language  as  this, 
and  have  been  heard  with  acquiescence  and  respect. 
To  say  nothing  on  the  subject  of  miracles-,  to 
which  Socrates  did  not  pretend  (btit  the  truth  of 
which  in  the  case  of  Jesus  can  alone  account  for 
the  air  of  superior  dignity  and  authority  that  he 
constantly  assumed,  as  a  messenger  from  God,  and 
having  his  authority  delegated  to  him)  his  discour- 
ses relate  to  subjects  of  infinitely  more  importance 
than  thos»  of  Socrates,  the  great  object  of  them  be- 
ing to  inculcate  a  purer  and  more  sublime  morality 
respecting  God  and  man  than  any  heathen  could 
have  a  just  idea  of,  and  urging  his  hearers  in'  all 
their  behaviour  in  this  life  to  have  a  principal  re- 
spect to  another,  which  was  to  commence  \vhen  he 

liimseif. 


94  SOCRATES    A^D 

himself,  after  a  painful  death,  to  which  he  kn6w 
that  he  was  destined,  and  his  removal  from  tlic 
world,  should  return,  invested  with  power  to  raise 
the  dead,  and  to  judge  the  world,  when  he  would 
give  to  every  man  according  to  his  works. 

These  are  pretensions  that  no  other  man  besides 
Jesus  ever  made  ;  but  with  these  ideas  of  his  pre- 
sent power  from  God,  and  his  future  great  destina- 
tion, his  conduct,  and  his  hmguage,  as  a  public 
teacher  corresponded;  and  his  hearers,  believing 
this,  heard  him  \\  1th  suitable  reverence  and  respect. 

What  otiicr  man,  to  mention  but  one  instance 
more,  would  not  have  exposed  himself  to  ridicule 
by  making  such  pretensions,  and  using  such  lan- 
giwge,  as  the  following,  (John  xi.  25.)  I  am  the 
resurrection  and  the  life.  He  that  believeth  in  mey 
though  he  \\3ere  deadly et  shall  he  Ihe.  (vi.  40.)  This 
is  the  ivill  of  him  that  sent  me^  that  e^cery  one  who 
seeth  the  son^  and  beUcveth  on  him,  shall  have  ever^ 
lasting  life  ;  and  I  will  raise  Aim  up  at  the  last  day. 
(Matt.  XXV.  31.)  IFhai  the  son  of  man  (by  which 
phrase  he  alw a}s  meant  himself) shall  come  in  his 
glory,  and  all  his  holy  angels  with  him,  then  slmll 
he  sit  on  tlie  throne  of  his  glory ;  and  before  him 
will  be  gat/iered  all  natlonsy  and  he  will  separate 

them 


JESUS    COMPARED.  95 

them  one  from  another^  as  a  shepheyd  dmdeth  tJic 
sheep  from  the  goats,  ^c. 

The  most  astonislung  proof  of  extraordinary  au- 
thority assumed  and  exercised,  by  Jesus  was  hisr 
driving  the  buyers  and  sellers  out  of  the  outer  court 
of  the  temple  at  the  time  of  a  public  festival,  when 
that  use  had,  of  course,  been  made  of  it  time  imme- 
morial, and  Milh  the  peiTnissIon  of  the  rulers  of  the 
nation.  This  he  did  with  only  a  whip  of  small 
cords  to  drive  out  the  oxen  and  other  cattle  ;  ^vhen 
as  we  read,  (Mai-k  xi.  15.  He  oi^erthrew  the  ta- 
bles of  the  money  changers,  and  the  scats  of  them 
that  sold  do'ues ,'  saying  ;  It  is  ^written,  My  Jiouse 
shall  he  called  the  house  of  prayer  for  all  nations,  but 
ye  hai}e  made  it  a  den  of  thieues.  This  was  done 
without  opposition,  remonstrance,  or  delay. 

When  this  was  done  the  scribes  and  pharisees 
asked  him  by  what  authority  he  had  done  it,  and 
ivhoga'ue  him  that  nuthority  ;  but  they  declining 
to  answer  a  qjiestion  tliat  he  put  to  them,  he  refus- 
ed to  give  them  any  answer.  We  do  not,  I  will 
venture  to  say,  in  all  history,  read  of  an  act  of  au- 
thority equal  to  this  by  any  private  person,  and  a 
person  without  any  relationsor  patrons  conspicuous  - 
for  wealth  or  power ;  and  yet  this  bold  unauthor- 
ized action  was  never  alleged  against  him  as  a  breach 

of 


9<6  SOCRATES     AND 

of  the  peace,  or  proiluced  against  him  at  his  trial. 
We  only  read  (Mark  xi.  18.)  that  the  scribes  and 
chief  priests  heard  it,  and  sought  how  they  might  de- 
stroy him.  For  they  feared  him,  because  all  the 
people  'lucre  astonished  at  his  doctrine. 

But  independently  of  this  superior  authority  \\  ith 
which  Jcsiis  always  delivered  himself,  \h.^  st:bjects 
of  his  discourses  and  exhortations  were  far  more 
serious  and  Vvxighly  than  tliose  of  Socrates.  In- 
deed, some  of  those  that  arc  recorded  by  Xcnophon 
are  so  exceedingly  triillng,  that  we  cannot  help 
wondering  that  a  writer  of  such  judgment  and 
good  sense  should  have  thought  it  \\  orth  his  while 
to  relate  them.  Some  of  those  of  Jesus  are,  no 
doubt,  of  much  less  importance  dian  others ;  as 
w  hen  he  advises  persons  how  to  place  themselves 
at  table  where  diere  are  many  guests  of  different 
ranks,  &:c.  and  observations  and  advices  of  far  less 
import:uice  than  even  this  are  not  unbecoming  So- 
crates, Jesus,  or  any  man  in  proper  circumstances. 
For  U\c  gravest  chai-acters are  not  always  speaking, 
as  we  say,  ex  cathedra.  In  the  ordinaiy  situations 
of  humim  life,  when  nothing  very  serious  is  ex- 
pected, but  mere  good  humour  and  good  sense, 
even  imiocent  pleasantry-  is  well  received. 

But 


JESUS    COMPARED.  9'7 

But  the  great  inferiority  in  all  heathens  with  re- 
spect to  kfiowledge,  especially  concerning  God,  pro* 
vidence,  and  a  future  state,  made  jt  absolutely  im^ 
possible  that  the  moral  discourses  of  Socraites 
should  have  the  clearness,  tlie  weight,  and  impor- 
tance, of  those  of  Jesus.  The  comparison  of  their 
discourses  in  this  resi^ect  shevv's  tl-ie  great  superior- 
ity of  the  syateni  O'f  religious  truth  that  was  f^^mJliaje 
to  all  Jews,  as  contained  hi  their  sac;red  books,  to 
any  thing  that  was  known  to  the  most  enlighteued 
of  the  heathens,  among  whom  Sacrate:^  shij-i^s  \\jith 
a  distinguished  piTeminejoce.. 

To  resort  once  more  to  the  eojiduct  of  Socrates 
and  Jesus.  Socrates  behaved  with  great  rftx)priety 
and  dignity  at  his  trial ;  but  it  was  by  no  meaLm 
equal  to  the  belmviour  of  Jesus  in  similar  circum- 
stances, tliough  it  is  probable  that  he  was.  \vh,Qlly 
unajcquainted  with  the  forms  and  §plemnity  of 
courts  of  justice,  especially  those  of  the  Romans^^ 
which  would  have  thrown  many  persons  intirely 
off  their  guard ;  whereas  Socrates  hsd  himself  sajt  as 
a  judge  in  one  of  the  most  important  criminal  c^u, 
ses  that  was  ever  brought  Ijcfore  any  court  of  juH- 
tioc.  But  Jesus  replied  to  the  interrogations  of  Fi- 
layte  the  Romaji  governor,  as  well  aa  to  ihos^  of  the 
G.  Jewish 


9S 


SOCUATES    AND 


Jewish  high  priest,  ^\  ith  the  greatest  presence  of 
mind,  and  the  utmost  propriety  ;  having  the  pru- 
dence  and  self  command,  to  make  no  answer  at  all 
to  questions  that  were  improper,  and  required  none. 
This  he  did  in  a  manner  that  astonished  Pilate 
himself. 

The  readiness  of  Jesus  to  die  after  a  hasty  and 
most  unjust  condemnation,  was  certainly  not  less 
to  be  admired  than  that  of  Socrates,  though  the 
death  of  the  latter  was  the  easiest  possible,  and  not 
in  the  least  disreputable  ;  being  that  to  which  die 
first  citizens  in  the  state,  if  sentenced  to  die,  were 
brought :  whereas  that  to  which  Jesus  was  sen- 
tenced was  at  the  same  time  the  most  painful  and 
tlie  most  ignominious. 

Socrates  Ixid  a  \'eiy  humane  and  compassionate 
person  to  administer  the  poison  to  him,  shedding 
tears  when  he  delivered  it ;  and  with  great  propri- 
ety Socrates  spoke  kindly  to  him  on  the  occasion. 
But  it  is  most  probable  that  the  Roman  soldiers 
who  nailed  Jesus  to  the  cross  did  that  office  as  they 
generally  did,  without  any  feehng  of  compassion, 
and  i:>erhaps  with  mocker}^  as  they  had  treated  him 
before.  And  yet  it  is  probable  that  at  the  very 
time  when  they  were  putting  him  to  the  greatest 

pain. 


JESUS    COMPARED.  99 

pain,  he  pronounced  that  admirable  prayer  in  their 
fevour,  (Luke  xxiii.  24.)  Father  forgive  them, 
for  they  knoiv  not  what  they  do,  there  being  no  par- 
ticular  guilt  in  their  doing  tliat  oflice. 

Rousseau,  though  an  unbeliever,  was  struck 
with  the  great  difference  between  the  cases  of  Jesus 
and  Socrates  in  their  last  moments,  and  describes 
them  in  the  following  energetic  manner.  •'  The 
*'  death  of  Socrates,  who  breathed  his  last  m  philo- 
•*  sophical  conversation  with  his  friends,  is  the 
*'  mildest  death  that  nature  could  desire  ;  while 
*'  the  death  of  Jesus,  expiring  in  torment,  injured, 
*'  inhumanly  treated,  mocked,  and  cursed  by  an 
*'  assembly  of  people,  is  the  most  horrible  one  that 
"  a  mortal  could  apprehend.  Socrates  while  he 
*'  tak-es  the  poisoned  cup  gives  his  blessing  to  the 
*'  person  who  presents  it  to  him  v^ith  the  tenderest 
"  marks  of  sorrow,  Jesus  in  the  midst  of  his  ago- 
"  nies  prays — for  whom?  for  his  executioners. 
*'  Ah!  if  the  life  and  death  of  Socrates  carry  the 
*'  marks  of  a  sage,  the  life  and  death  of  Jesus  pro- 
*^  claim  a  God." 


SfiCTIftN 

C2. 


100     ,  SOCRATES    AND 


Section   V'III. 

OftJic  a'ljfcrcnt  Objects  of  tin-  Inztruct'ions  of  Socrates 
and  of  Jesus. 

There  is  a  remarkable  difference  Ijetueen  thef»e- 
neral  conduct  of  Jesus  nnd  liis  apostles,  and  that 
of  Socrates  and  the  Grecian  philosophers  in  gene- 
ral, with  respect  to  tlie  persons  to  tvhom  they  usu- 
ally addressed  tJicir  instructions.  All  the  teaching 
of  the  latter  Mas  confined  to  persons  of  good  condi- 
tion, such  as  were  likely  to  have  influence  in  the 
important  offices  and  concerns  of  the  stats  ;  but  this 
was  110  particular  object  with  Jesus.  Though  So- 
crates, unlike  other  philosophers,  took  no  money 
for  his  instructions,  his  admonitions  appear  to  have 
been  confined  to  persons  of  tlie  same  class  with  the 
pupils  of  the  others.  There  is  not  one  of  the  dia- 
logues in  which  he  is  the  speaker,  eiUier  in  Xeno- 
phon  or  Plato,  in  aa  hich  the  common  people  are 
an}'  part  of  the  audience ;  so  that  the  great  mass  of 
citizens  could  not  receive  any  benefit  from  his 
teaching. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  discourses  of  Jesus  were 
addressed  to  persons  of  all  ranks  promiscuoasly, 

aiid 


JE6U3    COMPARED.  101 

and  generally  to  crowds  of  the  common  people, 
though  without  excluding  any,  and  rather  selecting 
those  of  the  lower  classes,  who  were  held  in  con- 
tempt by  the  learned  scribes  and  pharisees,  for  his 
audience.  He  was  commonly  attended  by  great 
multitudes,  of  whom  very  few  can  be  thought  to 
have  been  what  we  c^W  persons  of  condition,  or  who 
were  likely  to  have  any  influence  in  public  affairs, 
to  which  indeed  his  instructions  had  no  relation 
whatever. 

On  two  occasions,  when  crowds  of  this  kind  at- 
tended him,  he  fed  them  by  a  benevolent  miracle ; 
ivhereas  had  they  been  opulent,  they  would,  no 
doubt,  ;have  come  sufficiently  provided  with  every 
thJJig.  We  read  (Mark  vi.  34.)  that  ke  was  mov- 
ed with  compassiwx  towards  tfie  miihitude^  because 
iheywere  as  sheep  not  having  a  shepherd.  And 
a^in,  (Matt.  xv.  32.)  he  says,  I  have  compassion 
m  the  multitude.,  because  they  have  continued  with 
me  mow  three  days,  ojid  have  nothing  to  eat ;  and  I 
am  unwilling  to  send  them  away  fasting,  lest  they 
fjmit  m  the  luay. 

Sometimes  pes'sons  of  better  condition,  and  of 
•a  'higl>er  rank,  such  as  Nicodemus,  applied  to  Je- 
««-6 ;  sbut  we  i-kever  find  that  he  sought  their  socie- 
ty, or  first,  in:any  -manner,  applied  to  them,  or  to 
G  3.  any 


102  SOCRATES     AND 

any  of  the  scribes  and  phari^sces,  who  were  the  lead- 
ing men  in  tlie  coruntr}-.  Whereas,  Socratei)  \\ith 
the  l)est  views,  no  doubt,  appears  to  have  applied 
to  no  other.  In  this  circiimstajice,  ho\v'ever,  we 
see  a  sti  ikin,^  dlflerencc  bcl^veen  these  two  teach- 
ers of  virtue.  The  object  of  Socrates  was  the  in- 
struction of  a  Jlii\  but  that  of  Jesus  of  the  rnany^ 
and  es})eeiuli  those  of  the  middle  and  lower  clas- 
ses, as  standing  in  most  need  of  instruction,  ^d 
most  likely  to  rccci\e  it  wiih  gratitude  and  without 
pi'ejudice. 

The  apostles,  in  this  and  in  every  thing  else,  fol- 
lowed the  example  ot  their  master,  and  addressed 
themselves  to  all  classes  of  men  without  distincti- 
on, and  \\ithout  ever  selecting  the  powerful,  the 
rich,  or  the  learned.  To  tliem  men  of  all  descrip- 
tions were  equal,  as  standing  in  the  same  relation  to 
the  common  parent  of  all  mankind  ;  equally  train- 
ing up  by  him  in  the  same  great  school  of  moral 
discipline  here,  and  alike  heirs  of  immortality  here- 
after. 

Thus  the  apostle  Paul  says,  (1  Cor.  xii.  13.) 
We  are  all  baptized  into  one  body^  ivhether  ive  be 
Jews  or  Gentiles^  whether  ive  be  bond  or  free.  (Gal. 
xiii.  27.)  As  many  of  you  as  hai^e  been  baptized 
into  Christ  /Miic  put  on  Christ.     There  is  iwiiher 

Jew 


JESUS    COMPARED.  103 

Jew  nor  Greek,  there  is  neither  bond  7ior free,  there 
is  neither  male  nor  female, for  ye  are  all  one  in  Christ 
Jesus.  (Col.  iii.  11.)  There  is  neitlier  Greek  nor 
JeWf  circumcision  nor  iincircumcision,  barbarian, 
Scythian,  bond  nor  fr/ee  ;  but  Christ  is  all  arid  in  all. 
This  is  language  suited  to  the  equal  nature,  and  e- 
qual  rights  of  all  men ;  but  it  \v'as  never  held  by  the 
Grecian  philosophers,  nor  did  their  conduct  at  all 
correspond  to  it.  With  them  barbarians,  and  espe- 
cially slaves,  were  of  little  account,  any  farther  than 
they  were  qualified  to  serve  them. 

Accordingly,  we  find  that  the  scliools  of  the 
Grecian  philosophers  were  attended  by  none  but 
persons  of  considerable  rank  and  v^'calth.  The 
lower  order  of  the  citizens  took  no  interest  in  any 
thing  that  they  taught,  so  that  their  morals  could 
not  be  at  all  improved  by  them.  But  by  the  preach- 
ing of  the  apostles  a  great  and  visible  reformation 
was  made  among  all  ranks  of  men,  and  especially 
the  lower,  and  of  those  some  of  the  most  depraved. 
Thus  the  apostle  Paul,  after  observing  M'hat  was 
quoted  from  him  before,  concerning  those  who 
should  ;zo/  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God,  as  idolaters, 
adulterers,  thieves,  &c.  adds,  but  such  were  some  of 
you,  But  ye  are  ixiashed,  but  ye  are  sanctifed,  but  ye 
are  justi^ed,  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  by 
G  4.  tlie 


lOi  &OC*ATT.8     AND 

r^}ePprrxt  aftnir  'Qvrl,  Many  jxissik^s  ra  the  epis- 
tles of  the  apostles  shew  the  Mretohed  state  with  re^ 
■sjicd  to  iTKJTifcls  in  which  the  ^-os])ol  fbundfnen,imd 
ho^-  much,  t'hey  weie  improved  \Ty  k. 

In  none  of  the  dialogues  of  Socrates  do  we  iind 
any  ivoman  to  be  present,  except  Thcodota,  tlie 
courtezan  above  mentioned  ,  ancl  though  the  do- 
mestic manners  of  the  Grecian  'women  of  virtue, 
and  of  condition,  \\ere  such  as  that  they  could  not 
with  decency  attend  public  discourses,  the  middle 
and  lower  classes  of  women  in  Greece,  as  in  all  o- 
ther  countries,  went  abroad  as  openly  as  men  ;  and 
therefore  might  have  been  in  the  way  of  instructi- 
on, had  the  common  people  in  general  been  addres- 
sed by  the  philosophers. 

But  christian  teachers  ne\  er  made  any  account 
of  diiference  of  sex.  When  Jesus  fed  tlic  five  tliou- 
-sand,  and  also  the  four  tliousand,  dicre  were  "coo- 
men  and  children  among  them,  as  veil  as  men. 
The  same  was  the  case  with  tlK-  chiistian  churclics 
in  Conndi,  and  otlicT  cities  of  Greeoe.  Even  at 
Athens,  ^\■hel•e  Paul  did  not  jnakc  many  con- 
verts, there  was  one  woman  ctf  the  name  of  J>ama- 
ris,  (Acts  xvii.  34.)  Wliat  her  coiniit-ion  was  is 
not  said.     But  as  she  is  menliomid  by  name,  it  ib 

pr()h;ihlf* 


J'EStrS    COMPARED.  105 

probable  ifeit,  likeLydia,  she  was  of  some  consi- 
derable rank,  -at  least  her  own  mistress,  not  subject 
to  (tlie  controul  of  another. 


Section  IX. 

InfersTwes  tohe  drawn  from  the  Comparison  of  So- 
crates and  Jesus, 

1.  In  comparing  the  characters,  the  moral  in- 
structions, and  the  whole  of  tlie  history,  of  Socrates 
and  Jesus,  it  is,  I  think,  impossible  not  to  be  sen- 
sibly struck  with  the  great  advantage  of  revealed 
religion,  such  as  that  of  the  Jews  and  the  christians, 
as  enlightening  and  enlarging  the  minds  of  men, 
and  imparting  a  superior  excellence  of  character. 
This  alone  can  account  for  tlie  difference  between 
Socrates  and  Jesus,  and  the  disciples  of  each  of 
them ;  but  this  one  circumstance  is  abundantly- 
sufficient  for  the  purpose. 

I1ie  inanner  in  \^^ich -5ie  «iind  of  Jesus  must 
iiave  been  impressed  by  the  persuasion  that  he  had 
of  his  peculiar  relation  to  God  on  the  one  part,  and 
to  all  mankind  on  the  other,  could  not  fail  to  make 
him  superior  to  "Socrates,  or  any  other  man,  in  ele- 
va:tion  of  mind,  what  ever  might  be  their  superiori- 

G  5.  \y 


106  SOCRATES    AND 

ty  With  respect  to  intellect,  general  knov. ledge,  or 
natural  ad\antagcs  of  any  other  kind. 

The  far  greater  extent  of  the  views  of  Jesus,  as 
bearing  an  important  relation  to  all  mankind,  and 
the  most  distant  generations  of  them  ;  being  their 
prophet  and  k'lng^  and  also  his  own  peculiar  relati- 
on to  God,  the  common  parent  of  them  all,  being, 
as  it  were,  his  'uicegeretit  itpon  earth,  necessarily 
gave  him  an  elevation  of  character  that  neither 
Socrates  nor  any  other  man  could  have. 

Interested  as  he  was  for  all  that  should  ever  bear 
the  christian  name  (which  in  due  time  he  did  not 
doubt  would  be  the  case  with  all  men)  \\ ith  \\liat 
fer\'our  did  he  pray,  (John  xvii.  21.)  that  they 
might  be  one  with  him  and  his  Father,  as  they  two 
were  one,  and  that  they  might  shcire  in  the  glo-ry 
that  was  destined  for  himself  from  the  foundation  of 
theworhl-  What  dignity,  as  Avell  aspiet)-,  do  we 
see  here  ?  What  other  man  could  have  used  such 
language  as  this? 

The  habitual  piety  of  Jesus  was  such  as  could 
not  have  been  expected  in  Socrates,  or  the  most 
virtuous  of  tlie  heathens.  He  appears  to  have  spo- 
ken, and  acted,  as  at  all  times  not  only  in  the  im- 
mediate presence,  but  as  by  tlie  immediate  directi- 
on of  God.  The  words  that  he  spakcy  he  said,  (John 

xiv.  10.) 


JESUS    COMPARED  '       107 

xiv.  10.)  were  not  his  owti,  but  those  0/  the  Father 
ivho  sent  him  ;  and  who,  being  always  with  him, 
and  ahvays  hearing  him,  performed  the  miraculous 
works  by  which  his  divine  mission  was  evidenced. 
So  assiduous  was  he  in  the  discharare  of  his  hiQ:h 
commission,  that,  as  he  said,  (John  iv.  34.)  it  was 
his  meat  and  drink  to  do  the  ivill  of  his  Iieavcnly  fa^ 
ther,  and  Jinish  the  -work  t/mt  he  gai^e  him  to  do. 

Raised  as  he  was  to  a  preeminence  above  all 
other  men,  he  seems  to  have  been  even  more  than 
any  other  man  sensible  of  his  dependence  upon 
God,  and  he  had  recourse  to  him  on  all  occasions. 
We  even  read  (Luke  vi.  12.)  of  his  spending^ 
whole  night  in  prayer  to  God ;  and  it  was  in  obedi- 
ence to  his  will  that,  notwithstanding  the  dread  tliat 
he  naturally  felt  for  the  painful  death  to  which  he 
was  destined,  and  the  horror  that  he  expressed  on 
the  near  view  of  it,  he  voluntarily  and  patiently 
submitted  to  it.  He  prayed,  and  with  peculiar 
earnestness,  that  the  bitter  cup  might  pass  from 
him,  but  iramediately  added,  (Matt.  xxvi.  39.) 
Not  my  will  but  thine  be  done.  Nothing  like  this 
could  be  expected  from  Socrates,  or  any  heathen. 
Their  knowledge  of  God,  his  providence,  and  his 
will,  were  too  obscure  and  uncertain  for  the  pur- 
pose, though  they  had  been  ever  so  well  disposed. 

As 


l08  SOCRATES    AVD 

As  the-  w  orship  of  Socrates  was,  nominally  at 
Jeast,  directed  only  to  Jupiter,  Juno,  and  the  otl^r 
gods  that  were  acknowledged  by  his  counti}-,  it 
was  hai'dly  possible  for  him  not  to  retain  such  ideas 
as  were  generally  entertained  of  tliem  ;  and  not- 
withsUmding  his  endca\'oui-s  to  divest  his  mind  of 
every  tiling  in  their  character  that  must  have  ap- 
peai'ed  un\\orthy  of  divinity,  such  is  the  power  of 
association,  that  it  was  impossible  he  should  ever 
do  it  completely  ;  and  if  not,  his  reverence  for  the 
objects  of  his  worship  must  have  fallen  infinitely 
short  of  that  which  Jesus,  and  the  Jews  in  general, 
had  for  their  God;  and  every  sentiment  of -devoti- 
on must  have  partaken  of  tliat  imperfection.  Tl^eir 
love,  or  attachment  to  them,  their  dread  of  their 
power,  their  dcvotedness  to  their  will  in  doing,  and 
dieir  resignation  to  their  will  in  suftering,  the  sense 
they  had  of  their  constant  dependence  upoaathem, 
and  of  their  presence  with  them,  must  have  -beau 
very  little  compared  \\'Tth  the  same  sentiments  in 
the  mind  of  a  pious  Jew,  with  respect  to  the  one 
great  object  of  his  worship. 

This  must  be  apparent  to  any  person  wIiq  wrH 
read  the  book  oi"  Psiilms,  Hnd  cxji^ipai'e  those  devo- 
tional compositions '\vithTniy(H'tlierebe any  such) 
of  asimilarnaturc  composed -by  hcaflsens.     But 

tiicre 


JESUS    COMPARED.  109 

there  was  nothing  in  the  religions  of  the  lieathens, 
at  least  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  that  could 
inspire  any  sentiments  that  deserve  to  be  called  de- 
votional. This  striking  difference  no  person  will 
say  was  owmg  to  any  superiority  of  genius  in  the 
Hebrew  poets,  and  therefore  it  must  have  been 
owing  to  superior  knowledge;  and  this  superior 
knowledge  could  not  have  had  any  source  but  from 
divine  revelation.  Witliout  this  tlie  Hebrews 
would,  no  doubt,  have  been  as  absurdly  supersti- 
tions as  any  of  the  neighbouring  nations  ;  and  con- 
sequently their  ideas  of  the  power  and  providence 
of  God  as  little  proper  to  inspire  sentiments  of  true 
devotion. 

To  persons  of  reflection,  and  acquainted  with 
the  state  of  the  heathen  world,  gind  especially  their 
turn  of  thinking  and  acting  with  respect  to  religion, 
there  needs  no  other  evidence  of  the  truth  of  revela- 
tion than  a  compai'ison  of  the  hymns  in  honour  of 
the  heathen  gods  by  Callimachus,  and  other  Gre- 
cian poets,  or  the  carmen  secular e  of  Horace,  with 
the  psalms  of  David,  and  other  devotional  parts  of 
the  books  of  scripture,  with  respect  to  justness  and 
elevation  of  sentiment,  and  correspondent  sublimi-. 
ty  of  language. 

2.     In 


110  SOCRATES     A!>rD 

2.  In  the  account  that  we  have  of  the  daemon  of 
Socrates,  what  he  says  of  it  himself,  and  what  ap- 
pears to  have  been  gcnerall}'  thought  of  it  by  others> 
we  clearly  perceive  that  there  is  nothing  so  natural- 
ly incredible  as  modem  unbelievers  represent  with 
respect  to  di^  ine  intcipositions,  either  in  the  case 
of  the  vulgar,  or  the  philosophers  of  ancient  times. 
The  universal  practice  of  having  recourse  to  oracles 
anddiviniition,  is  alone  an  abundant  proof  of  this 
y,\th  respect  to  mankind  in  general ;  and  tlie  idea 
of  a  mystical  wiion  with  God,  and  a  consequent  inti- 
mate communication  with  him,  came  into  Christia- 
nity from  the  later  Platonists.  In  every  thing  of 
this  kind  the  emperors  Marcus  Aurelius  and  Ju- 
lian, the  great  boasts  of  modem  unbelievers,  were 
as  credulous  as  the  lowest  of  the  vulgar. 

Where,  indeed,  can  be  the  impropriety,  or  im- 
probability, oftlie  Being  that  made  the  world,  giv- 
ing attention  to  it,  and  giving  suitable  intimations 
of  that  attention  ;  and  this  no  uniform  appeai-ances 
will  do.  It  is  not  men's  seeing  the  sun  rise  and 
set,  or  their  observing  the  regular  changes  oftlie 
seasons,  that  impresses  them  with  the  idea  of  any 
tiling  supernatural ;  but  unusual  appearances, 
though  equally  natural,  arising  from  the  same  ])rin- 
dples  and  laws  of  nature,  such  as  thunder,  light- 
ning, 


JESUS    COMPARED.  IH 

fiing,  eclipses,  and  earthquakes,  &c.  Both  history 
and  daily  observation  is  a  proof  of  this.  And,  sure- 
ly miracles,  performed  by  duly  authorized  pro- 
phets, do  this  infinitely  better  than  any  merely  un- 
usual natural  phenomena. 

This  opinion  of  the  natural  incredibility  of  ac- 
counts of  miracles,  on  which  Mr.  Hume,  and  af- 
tcr  him  other  unbelievers   lay  so  much  stress,  as 
what  no  positive  testimony  can  shake,  is  quite  a 
modem  thing.     But  had  tiiis  incredibility  had  any 
foundation  in  nature,  it  must  have  been  the  same 
at  all  times,  and  in  all  countries ;  and  it  must  have 
affected  all  classes  of  men,  princes  and  peasants, 
the  learned  and  the  unlearned ;  whereas  all  history 
shews  that  a  propensity  to  believe  accounts  of  di- 
vine interpositions  has  been  universal.     It  entered 
into  all  systems  of  religion  whatever,  and  no  nation 
was  ever  without  some  religion.     It  is  impossible, 
therefore,  not  to  conclude  that  a  system  wliich  sup- 
poses miracles  is  naturally  adapted  to  gain  belief, 
and  therefore  that  a  pretension  to  miracles  is  far 
from  being  a  circumstance  unfavourable  to  its  re- 
ception.     It  is  rather  a  presumption  in  its  favour. 
If  it  be  any  object  with  the  Divine  Being  to  giA-e 
mankind  intimations  of  his  attention  to  them,  and 

govern- 


\.13  SOCRATES    AND- 

government  over  them,  which  no  person  can  say  is 
impossible,  or  improUibie,  he  con  Id  not  take  any 
otlier  mc^iod  tiian  that  of  niiiacles  to  gain  his  encL 

Much  has  been  said  about  Socrates  referring 
Alcibiadcs  to  a  future  instructor^  as  if  he  had  been 
sensible  of  the  want  of  supcmatttral  communicati- 
on, and  tliat  he  hoped  for,  and  cx^x^ctcd  it.  But 
supposin,£^  Plato's  account  of  tlie  conversation, 
(p.  295.)  to  be  depended  upon,  which  it  certainly 
caimot,  I  can  by  no  means  infer  so  much  from  it. 
After  expressing  the  uncertainty  men  arc  under 
with  respect  to  proper  requests  to  the  gods,  he  tells 
Alcibiadcs  that  '*  he  must  wait  till  some  person  in- 
**  form  him  (r/j  y.uB-/\)  how  he  sliould  conduct 
"  himself  both  M'ith  respect  to  the  gods  ai^  to. 
*•  men." 

When,  in  reply  to  this,  Alcibiadcs  expresses 
much  importunity  to  be  informed  who  this  teach- 
er was,  taking  for  granted  that  it  was  some  man 
(for  he  says  **  I  would  gladly  know  who  diis  man. 
"is,")  Socrates  only  says,  that  *'  it  was  one  who 
"  cared  much  for  him,"  meaning  probably  that  he 
was  much  his  friend  ;  "but  that  at  present  a  degire 
"  of  darkness  hung  over  his  mind,  which  must 
"  first  be  dispersed."     I  therefore  diink  it  most 

probable 


JESUS    C^OMPARED  113 

probable  that  he  meant  hhnsdf^  but  that  he  thought 
his  pupil  not  then  sufficiently  prepared  to  receive 
fiirther  instruction  on  the  subject. 

3.  We  see  in  the  case  of  Socrates  himsehS  as 
well  as  in  that  of  the  people  of  Athens  in  general, 
the  strong  attachment  \vhich  the  heathens  had  to  the 
rites  of  their  ancient  religions.  To  disregard  them, 
and  to  adopt  other  rites,  was  punishable  with  death. 
The  Athenians,  as  well  as  other  nations,  occasion- 
ally adopted  the  worship  of  other  gods,  and  other 
gods,  and  other  modes  of  worship,  out  individuals 
were  not  allowed  to  do  it.  It  must  be  done  by  the 
authority  of  the  state,  and  at  Athens  it  was  by  the 
court  of  Areopagus.  On  this  account  the  apostle 
Paul,  who  was  said  to  endeavour  to  introduce  the 
worship  of  strange  gods,  and  anew  religion,  vv'as 
brought  before  this  court. 

But  though  heathen  nations  sometimes  adopted 
other  rites,  they  never  abandoned  then-  ancient 
ones.  There  does  not  appear  to  have  been  any  ex- 
cimple  of  this  in  all  antiqi'.ity.  Nor  can  we  wonder 
at  this,  when  it  is  considered,  that  in  all  heathen 
countries,  the  prosperity  of  the  state  was  thought 
to  depend  upon  the  observance  of  the  religious  ritts 
of  their  ancestors,  the  founders  of  the  respectixe 
states.     No  principle  appears  to  have  been  more 

H.  fixed 


114  SOCRATES     AND 

fiiiccl  in  the  mmds-of-?H-mcn  than  this.  Wcsee  it 
in  the  extreme  reluctance  with  ^hich  some  of  the 
most  absurd  and  indecent  rites,  as  the  Lupercaha 
at  Rome,  \\ere  given  up.  .-Vnd  to  the  \cry  last, the 
more  learned,  and  therefore,  it  may  be  presumed, 
tlie  least  superstitious  of  die  Romans,  constantly 
upbraided  the  christians  with  being  the  cause  of 
the  decline  of  the  empire,  by  the  introduction  of 
their  new  religion. 

This  attachment  of  the  heatlicns  to  their  religion 
was  necessarily  increased  by  its  entering  into  all 
the  customs,  and  confirmed  habits,  of  common 
life  ;  .some  rite  of  a  religious  nature  being  observed 
from  the  time  of  their  birth  to  that  of  their  death, 
and  in  fact  from  tlie  moniing  to  the  evening  of  eve- 
ry day.  Every  entertainment,  public  or  private, 
was  tinctured  \vith  it.  No  act  of  magistracy  could 
be  pciformed  \\  iihout  it ;  and  in  countries  the  most 
advanced  in  civilization  the  public  festivals,  in  ho- 
nour of  their  gods,  were  ver)'  numerous.  It  will 
be  seen  in  Potter's  Antiquities  of  Greece^  that  not 
less  than  sixty-six  of  them  v;ere  observed  by  the 
Athenians,  and  several  of  them  were  of  some  days 
continuance.  And  in  general  there  was  so  much 
in  them  of  festivity  and  amusement,  bordering,  to 
say  the  least,  on  licentiousness,  tliat  they  \vere  very 
fascinating  to  die  common  people.  \\''hca 


JESUS    COMPARED.  115 

•  When  it  is  considered  how  discordant  and  incon- 
sistent all  this  was  with  the  principles  of  Christiani- 
ty, so  that  when  any  heathen  became  a  christian  lie 
must  change  every  habit  of  his  life,  as  well  as  his 
opinions;  that  let  him  live  ever  so  privately,  he 
.could  hardly  pass  a  single  day  wrtlwut  the  change 
being  observed,  and  that  at  the  birth  of  a  child,  a 
marriage,  or  a  funeral,  it  must  have  been  conspi- 
cuous to  all  his  neighbours,  and  the  whole  city, 
though  he  might  have  found  some  excuse  for  not 
attending  the  public  sacrifices,  and  other  rites  of 
a  visible  nature,  and  though  he  should  not  have 
thought  himself  obhged  (which  ajl  christians  arc) 
to  make  an  open  ^irofession  of  his  fairfi,  confessing 
Christ  before  men^  we  shall  not  wonder  at  the  dif- 
^ulty  with  which  this  great  change  must  have 
been  made,  any  more  than  at  the  alarm  that  was  ta- 
ken when  many  converts  were  made  to  christianitr, 
and  the  consequent  persecution  of  christians,  as  se- 
ditious persons,  men  ^vho  turned  the  ivorld  upside 
down,  (Acts  xvii.  6.)  their  principles  tending  to  the 
♦uin  of  all  states. 

While  the  christians  were  few,  and  generally  con- 
sidered as  converts  to  Judaism,  which  Avas  univer- 
sally tolerated,  and  while  they  behaved  in  a  very 

H  2.  peaceable 


116  SOCRATES    AVd 

]>caccabic  inoffensive  munner,  ihey  might  not  give 
much  alarm,  noLuitlrfsUincIing  their  singularities; 
but  when  the}'  were  observed  to  be  numerous, 
they  ^\oulcl  not  fail  to  give  alarm  to  nil  heathen  go- 
vernors. They  were  tllen  exposed  to  tl^  ii'Ost 
unrelenting  persecution,  except  where  the  acting 
magistrates  w  ere  secretly  disposed  in  their  favour* 

Tlie  r?pid  j-^rogress  of  Christianity  in  these  cir- 
cuip.stances  will  ever  appear  the  most  extraoidina- 
ry  thing  in  t^ie  history  of  the  v  oi  Id.  It  afipeitrs 
from  the  epistle  of  Paul,  th.at  in  his  time  there  were 
christian  churches  in  all  the  more  considerable  ci- 
ties in  *he  eastern  part  of  the  Roman  empire.  In 
the  time  of  die  emperor  Trajan,  the  younger  Pliny, 
then  governor  of  Bithynia,  complained  that  the  rites 
ofthc  ancient  religions  were  generally  dicontinued 
in  his  province ;  and  in  the  space  of  about  three  hun- 
dred years  so  numerous  and  respectable  ^vcre  the 
christians  become,  in  the  whole  extent  of  that  \-ast 
empire,  that  the  emperors  thems-elvcs  found  they 
miglit  sjifel)  declare  themselves  christians. 

To  account  for  the  rise  and  progress  of  Christia- 
nity, and  the  overtlirow  of  heathenism,  and  this 
without  A  iolence,  in  the  whole  extent  of  die  Ro- 
man empire,  in  so  short  a  space  of  time,  is  a  pro- 
blem that  no  unbeliever  has  seriously  attempted  to 

solve. 


JE«tJS    COMPARED.  117 

solve,  except  Mr.  Gibbon  may  be  said  to  htive  en- 
deavoured to  do  it.  But  his  observations  on  the 
subject  are  so  exceedingly  futile,  that  they  discover 
equal  prejudice  and  ignorance,  ignorance  of  the 
common  principles  of  human  nature,  of  the  nature 
of  heathenism,  and  of  the  state  of  the  heathen  Avorld. 
I  proposed  to  enter  into  the  discussion  of  this  im- 
portant subject  with  him,  but  he  petulantly  declin- 
-ed  it,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  letters  that  passed  be- 
tween us  relating  to  it,  published  in  the  Appc?idix 
to  tlye  first  'volume  of  my  Discourses  en-  tJie  ei^'utcncc 
<f  rt%mkd  religion^  and  also  in  the  Life  of  Mr. 
Qihhm  t^y  one  of  his  friends.  At  my  time  of  life  I 
cannot  engage  is  this,  or  any  other  controversy ; 
but  I  earnesdy  wish,  as  a  friend  to  important  trudi, 
that  some  learned  and  candid  unbeliever  (  and  such 
I  doubt  not  there  are)  would  engage  in  it.  He 
would  find  christians  enow  equally  leai'ued  and  can- 
did to  4i§cuss  the  question  Avith  him. 

4.  !^either  Socrates  nor  Jesus  were  writers,' 
and  there  ^eeiyis  to  be  moi'e  of  dignity  in  their  cha- 
racters iu  consequence  of  it,  as  if  they  were  not  ve- 
ry solicious  about  transmitting  their  names  to  pos- 
terity ;  confident,  tliat  as  far  as  it  was  an  object  with 
them,  it  would  be  sufficiently  done  by  others.  All 
tlieaccouuts.  therefore,  that  we  have  of  tliem  come 
H  3.  from 


Ilt5  SOCRATES     A  N' » 

from  their  disciples  and  fi  icnds.     And  there  is  a^- 
remiirkable  difference  in  the  manner  in  which  the 
life  of  Socrates  is  wTitten  in'  Xenophon,  andthatof 
Jesus  b\-  the  e\angelists.  There  cannot  be  a  doubt 
but  that  the  evangelists  had  a  much  higher  opinion 
ol  their  master   than   Xenophon  or  Plato  had  o£ 
theirs.     The  traces  of  this  are  numerous,  and  in- 
disputable ;  but  there  is  not  in  their  writings  any- 
direct  encomium,  or  praise,  of  him,   as  there  is  in 
tlic  Greek  writers  of  Socrates  ;  and  yet  without  any 
assistance  of  this  kind  a  reader  of  moderate  discern- 
ment cannot  help  forming  a  much  higher  idea  of 
Jesus  tlian  he  does  of  Socrates  from  die  facts  re- 
corded of  him,  and  the  discourses  abcribed  to  him. 

Indeed,  we  haAC  no  example  of  such  simplicity 
in  writing  as  that  of  the  scriptures  of  tlic  Old  :md 
New  Testaments  in  all  the  heathen  world ;  and  it 
is  not  easy  to  account  for  the  difierence,  especially 
with  respect  to  the  later  writers  i  except  that  Mo- 
ses having  begun  to  write  in  tliis  simple  maimer, 
tlie  succeeding  wi  iters,  having  no  other  model,  na- 
turally followed  that ;  inserting  in  tlieir  composi- 
tions  nothing  tliat  appeared  suiDei^fluous,  as  direct 
encomiums  are,  when  the  facts  from  which  such 
encomiums  are  drawn,  ^e  before  the  reader;  who 
may  be  supposed  as  capable  of  drawing  a  proper 
inference  from  ihtni  as  the  writer  himself  As 


JESUS    COMPARED.  119 

As  the  sacred  writers  say  nothing  directly  in 
praise  of  those  whom  they  most  esteemed  and  ad- 
mired, they  say  nothing  directly  in  dispraise,  or 
censure,  of  those  whom  they  most  dii-Iikcd,  but 
leave  the  circumstances  they  simply  mention  to 
make  their  natural  impression  upon  their  readers. 
And  from  the  effects  of  tliese  two  different  modes 
of  WTiting,  the  natural  and  the  artificial^  as  they 
may  be  termed,  the  former  appears  to  be  better  cal- 
culated to  answer  the  purpose  of  the  writer  than 
the  latter.  When  a  man  direcdy  praises  or  cen- 
sures  another,  we  suspect  some  previous  bias  for 
or  against  hun,  and  ai'e  upon  our  guard ;  but  vvhen 
w-e  read  a  simple  narrative  of  facts,  without  any  ex- 
planatory remarks  of  the  writer  ;  we  have  no  sus- 
picion of  any  thing  unfavourable]  to  truth-  We 
tiiink  we  see  w\x\\  oar  ovvn  eyes,  and  hear  with 
our  own  ears,  and  that  we  thus  judge  for  ourselves. 


My  father  to  she^v  how  little  stress  he  laid  on  a 
casual  opinion,  has  directed  me  to  add  the  follow- 
ing sentence  concerning  the  Demon  of  Socrates — 
from  his  second  tract  in  answer  to  Dr.  Linn,  iiiid 
to  insert  it  at  the  end  of  the  section  relating  to  So- 
crates. J.  P. 

H4.  As 


120  SOCRATES     AND,  ScC. 

As  to  tlic  Demon  of  Socrates,  on  \^  liicji  you 
urge  me  so  close^j',  I  profcsbcd  not  to  liave  any  fixed 
opinion  about  It.  If  I  had  been  asked  w  hat  I  thought 
of  It  a  short  time  before  the  writing  of  my  pam- 
pb.lcl,  I  should  have  said,  as  you  do,  it  was  proljaljly 
notliing  more  than  his  own  good  sense ,  but  on 
considering  his  character  more  particularly,  I  was 
unwilling  to  think  that  such  a  man  would  persist 
through  life,  and  to  his  dying  moments,  in  telling  a 
lie.  And  what  tlic  Supreme  Being  might  please 
to  do  by  or  willi  him,  or  any  man,  neither  you  nor 
I  cin  tell.  But  I  never  said,  as  you  now  quote  me, 
that  "  God  spake  to  Socrates  !)y  a  demon,"  which 
}-ou  call,  (p.  75,)"  aglaringdcformity  of  my  asscr- 
*'  tion.  Such  an  idea  never  occurred  to  me.  As 
my  opinion  on  this  xcrs'  unimportant  subject  is 
tmsettled,  it  is  very  possible  that  I  may  revert  to  my 
forrhcr  opinion,  and  yours  about  it. 


ON 


121 


ON 

PLATONISM. 


introduction: 

j^LATO  was  the  professed  disciple  of  Socrates, 
and  attended  him  eight  years.  His  attachment  to 
him  appears  by  the  sum  that  he  raised  to  procure 
his  release  from  imprisonment,  and  his  eagerness 
to  speak  in  his  defence  at  his  trial.  The  vene- 
ration in  which  he  held  his  memory  is  evident  from 
his  making  him  the  principal  speals^lr  in  many  of 
his  dialogues,  and  the  person  who  delivers  his 
own  sentiments  in  them. 

After  tlie  death  of  Socrates,  Plato  travelled  in 
quest  of  knowledge,  first  into  Italy^  where  he  con- 
versed with  the  disciples  of  Pythagoras,  and  after- 
wards into  Egj-pt,  where,  being  known  to  be  a  per- 
son of  considerable  distinction  \n  his  own  countr}', 
he  appear  to  h^ve  been  received  with  great  respect, 
and  from  the  Eastein  part  of  the  world  in  which  it 

is 


122  OF    THE     PHILOSOPHY 

is  said  he  travelled  in  the  disguise  of  a  merchant, 
he  seems  to  have  got  some  knowledge,  directly  or 
indirectly,  of  the  sj^tcm  that  generally  prevailed 
there. 

That  he  should  expect  to  leam  something  in 
countries  out  of  the  bounds  of  Greece  is  not  ex- 
traordinary, as  it  is  acknowledged  by  him,  that 
"  what  the  Greeks  knew  concerning  the  gods,  and 
"  their  worship,  was  derived  from  the  Barbarians." 
But  he  says  (Epinomis.)  "  what  the  Greeks  learn- 
*'  ed  of  the  Barbarians  we  have  improved."  Not- 
withstanding this  ackno\vlcdgment,  he  is  willing 
to  ascribe  more  merit  to  the  Greeks  than  to  thenv 
when  he  says  (lb.)  that  "  though  there  is  the  gixat- 
"  est  difficulty  in  the  in\ention  of  these  things,  we 
"  hope  that  all  the  Greeks  >\ill  honour  the  one 
"  God  in  a  better  manner  than  the  Barbai'ians,  e- 
'*  specially  as  instructed,  and  warned,  by  die  Del- 
"  phic  oracle"  (lb.)  so  that,  in  his  opinion,  the 
Greeks  had  divine  instrucdon  as  well  as  human. 

He  fardier  acknowledges  that,  in  die  early  ages, 
"  the  Greeks  enterti\ined  ver\'  imperfect  ideas  of 
*'  die  gods  and  their  w  orship,  having  low  ideas  of 
"  their  characters,  which  they  did  well  to  correct. 
*'  Because  in  time  past,  he  says  (lb.)  our  ancestors 
"  formed  WTong  opinions  of  the  gods,  and  dicir 

**  proge- 


OF     PLATO.  123 

'•  progenies,  as  if  they  had  been  aniruals ,  we 
•'  should  now  treat  the  subject  differently."  In 
this  he  alludes  to  the  marriages  of  the  gods  and  god- 
desses, and  their  reputed  offspring,  in  odier  gods, 
and  also  in  their  acceding  to  the  iwpular  notions, 
adopted  and  embellished  by  the  poets,  which  gave 
him  such  offence  diat  we  shall  find  he  proscribed 
their  writings,  and  excluded  them  from  his  com- 
monwealtii.  Indeed,  these  notions  of  the  vulgar 
were  rejected  by  all  who  pretended  to  philosophy, 
or  s-iperior  knowledge,  in  Greece,  from  long  be- 
fore the  time  of  Socrates,  as  we  have  seen  already 
and  to  the  latest  period  of  it. 


Section  I. 

Of  God  and  his  Promdence, 

iTie  being  of  a  god,  or  of  gods,  for  Plato  uses 
both  the  phrases  promiscuously,  he  generally  takes 
for  granted.  Occasional!}-,  however  he  introduces 
arguments  for  his  opinion,  especially  (De  Legib. 
lib.  10.)  from  the  consideration  of  the  structure  of 
the  earth,  the  sun,  the  stars,  and  the  whole  universe; 
*'  How  couid  bodies  of  such  magnitude,"  he  says. 
(Epin.)  "  perform  tlieir  circuits  without  god.     I 

tlierefore 


Ii24  OF    THE     PHILOSOPHT 

"  therefore  assert  that  t^od  is  the  cause  of  this,  ".nd 
"  that  there  cannot  be  any  other."  Tic  also  ar- 
gues "  from  tlie  varietv  of  seaso'-is,  dividing  time 
*'  into  years  and  months,  and  also  from  die  con- 
^'  sent  of  all  nations,  Greeks  and  Barbarians.'* 
(De  Ia:^.  lib.  10.)  But  according  to  him,  and  in- 
deed ail  die  headien  philosopliers  without  excc]:>ti- 
on,  die  matter  out  of  ^hich  the  world  was  made, 
was  not  created  by  god,  but  found  by  him  ;  having 
existed  from  eternity  as  well  as  himself,  but  in  a 
confused  disorderly  state,  such  as  was  generally 
termed  chaos.  The  being  of  a  God,  or  gods,  Pla- 
to thought  to  be  so  evident,  that  he  says  (lb.) 
"  No  person  persists  in  his  disbelief  of  the  gods 
"  from  youdi  to  old  age." 

There  is  a  great  air  of  piety  in  the  writings  of 
Plato ;  and  this,  no  doubt,  contributed  to  make 
his  philosophy  so  -well  received  by  the  early  chris- 
tians. In  a  letter  to  Dion  (Epist.  4.)  he  says,  "  by 
*'  the  favour  of  die  gods  diings  go  well-"  The 
same  pious  language  occurs  again  in  the  same  let- 
ter.  That  he  pj  cferred  the  term  god  to  that  of  gods 
js  evident  from  his  letter  to  Dionysius,  of  Syra- 
cuse  (Epist.  13.)  in  which  he  informs  him  diat^ 
in  his  serious  letters  lie  begins  with  the  tcrm^o^, 

but 


OF     PLATO  125 

bat  thiitin  those  in  which  he  was  not  serioushe  u* 
ses  the  term  gods.  This,  however,  is  no  guide  to 
us  witli  request  to  his  dialogues,  so  that  we  iire  left 
to  distinguish  his  real  sentiments  from  those  sjDcak- 
crs  to  whom  he  gives  the  advantage  in  tlie  argu- 
ment, whichj  however,  is  sufiicicntly  apparent. 

Notwithstanding  Plato's  great  admimtioa  of  So> 
crates,  he  did  not  confine  hiinself,  as  Socrates  did,, 
to  that  philosophy  which  is  of  practical  use  in  life, 
tending  to  rectify  the  dispositions  of  men,  and  incit- 
ing them  to  such  virtues  as  would  make  them  use- 
iul  members  of  society,  but  indulged  in  various 
speculations  concerning- tlie  nature  of  God  and  the 
universe,  and  in  a  manner  that  liis  master  would 
not  have  approved.  Indeed,  on  these  great  but  ob- 
scure subjects  he  is  in  inany  respects  perfectly  un- 
intelligible- 

According  to  Plato,  the  universe  was  constructed 
by  the  supreme  being,  whom  he  frequently  dis- 
tinguishes by  the  title  of  ( ayoBog  )  without 
the  instrumentality  of  any  subordinate  being,  ac- 
cording to  a  pattern  of  it  previously  fi>rnied  in  his 
Own  mind.  But  there  is  great  confusion  in  his  ac- 
count of  these  ideas  in  the  di'oine  rhind^  (which  he, 
no  doubt,  borrowed  from  the  Pythagoreans  as  was 
observed  before)  so  that  he  sorfietimes  makes  them 

a  se-f 


|gi5  or    THE    PHILOSOPHY 

a  second  principle  of  things,  and  distinguishinsj  be- 
tween what  is  sensible  from  w  liat  is  ititellectual  in 
man  ;  and  considtring  all  that  wc  see  here  as  the 
object  of  the  senses ^  he  supposes  these  ideas  to  be 
invisible  to  the  senses,  but  comprehended  by  the 
intellect;    and  though  they  exist  in  the  divine 
mind,  the  intellect  of  man  has  free  access  to  them. 
He  therefore  calls  them  t/iings  inte/IigibL',  and  says 
that  what  we  see  here  are  only  the  shadows  of  them, 
and  changeable,  whereas  those  intelligible  ideas  are 
the  only  things  that  are  unchangeable,  and  perma- 
nent.    The  great  object  of  philosophy,  according 
to  him,  is  to  raise  the  mind  to  the  contemplation  of 
these  higher,  intelligible,  ami  permanent,  objects. 

Aristotle  ascribes  this  view  of  thinge  to  Hera- 
clitus.  "  The  doctrine  oHdeas,  he  says,  is  advanc- 
"  ed  by  those  who  were  con\inced  by  Heraclitus, 
"  that  sensible  things  are  always  flowing,  and 
"changeable;  so  that  if  there  be  any  such  thing 
**  as  real  knoivledge^  wliich  M'as  supposed  to  re- 
"  quire  2l fixed  object,  there  must  be  things  ofadif- 
"  ferent  nature  from  those  that  are  the  object  of  our 
*'  senses-  They  must  be  fixed,  there  being  no 
*•  proper  ^Knowledge  of  things  that  arc  flowing.'' 

(Metaph,  Lib.  12.  Cap.  4.) 

T<^ 


OF    PLATO.  '127 

To  this  doctrine  Plato  seems  to  allude  when  he 
says  (De.  Leg.  Lib.  10.)  "  All  see  the  body  of 
**  the  sun,  but  not  the  soul  tliat  animates  it ;  Not 
**  being  the  object  of  any  of  our  senses,  it  is  seen 
*'  by  the  mind.''  All  the  meaning  that  I  can  make 
of  this  doctrines  of  ideas,  perceived  by  the  intellect, 
and  not  by  the  senses,  things  not  fluctuating  and 
variable,  as  the  objects  that  we  converse  with  are, 
is  that  they  mean  what  we  call  abstract  ideas,  as 
those  of  horses,  men,  trees,  &c.  divested  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  colour,  size,  place,  8?:c.  which  31! . 
ways  attend  individual  objects ;  and  in  this  there 
is  no  great  mystery,  but  still  every  actual  idea  has^ 
some  peculiarity  or  other,  as  well  as  real  objt:/;. 

On  this  mysterious  doctrine  of  ideas,  which  ^^ere 
personified  by  the  later  Platonists,  and  made  a 
kind  of  second  god,  the  immediate  author  of  the 
creation,  was  founded  the  doctrine  of  the  christian 
trifiity,  as  I  have  she^\'n  at  large  in  my  History  of 
Early  Opinion  concerning  Jesus  Christ.  I'he  mis- 
chief that  has  arisen  from  false  metophysical  prin- 
ciples has  been  most  extensive,  affecting  every  ar- 
ticle of  christian  faith  and  practice,  as  may  be  seen 
in  several  of  my  writings.  Indeed,  no  branch  of 
science  has  wholly  escaped  this  subtle  and  baleful 
influence.      Happily,  however,  good  sense  is  at 

length 


128  OF  THE   ^Hitosoriir 

length  prevailing  over  every  thing  tliat  is  not  found- 
ed on  reason  and  truth;  and  with  this,  though 
seemingly  foreign  to  the  subject  of  religion,  we  are 
deriving  that  light  which  exhibits  Christianity  in  its 
best  and  purest  state,  as  it  came  from  Christ  and 
the  apostles,  who  knowing  nothing  of  heathen  phi- 
losophy, or  metaphysics,  delivered  the-  plainest 
truths  in  the  plainest  language,  though  the)'  have 
since  their  times  been  most  strangely  penerted  by 
an  unnatural  mixture  of  heatlK'n  principles,  and 
heathen  superstition. 

Notwithstanding  the  absurdity  of  Plato's  meta- 
physical notions  concerning  tlie  nature  of  God,  and 
his  itlation  to  the  universe,  his  ideas  of  his  attri- 
butes,  and  of  his  proiiidencc^  were  in  g-encral  just 
and  excellent,  agreeing  with  those  of  ihc  scrip- 
tures. 

Having  frequently  represented  the  Supreme  Be- 
ing as  the  friend  of  virtue,  and  the  enemy  of  vice, 
he  says,  (De.  Leg.  Lib.  10.)  "  God  cannot  have 
*'  the  disposition  that  he  hates.  God  apj)rovcs  of 
*'  those  who  resemble  himself,  and  is  angry  (vcjUfcra) 
"  with  those  who  are  unlike  to  him.     But  iwthing 

"  is  so  like  God  as  a  good  man He  is  the  most 

"  sacred  of  all  things,"  (Alcib.  2.)  meaning  diat  he 
has  tlie  nearest  relation  to  divinity. 

The 


OF    PLATO.  129 

The  term  by  which  he  generally  characterizes  the 
Supreme  Being  is  in  the  singular  number,  viz. 
the  Good,  {ayuB^')  vindicating  his  most  essential 
attribute.     *' Evil,"  he  says  (Rep.   3.)   "cannot 
"  come   from  God,"  and  in  (Rep.  xi.)  "  we  must 
*'  look  to  some  other  than  God  for  the  cause  of  e- 
"  vil."     This  principle,  however,  he  did  not  cairy 
so  far  as  the  Stoics,  who  maintained  that  God  was 
incapable  of  anger,  so  that   he  would  not  punish 
even  the  wicked.     On  the  contrary,  Plato  repre- 
sents the  Supreme  Being,  though  termed  t/ie  Good, 
as  no  less  jusi  than  merciful.     "  That  there  are 
*'  gods,"  he  says  (De.  Leg.  Lib.  10.)  "  and  that 
"  they   are  good,   and  respect  justice  more  than- 
*'  men,  is  tlie  best  introduction  to  a  body  of  laws." 
After  denominating  him,  "  the  beginning,  the  mid- 
*'  die,  and  the  end,  and  tlie  supporter  of  all  things," 
he  says  (De.  Leg.  Lib.  4.)  "  he  is  always  accompa- 
"  nied  by  justice,  and  punishes  diose  who  depart 
**  from  the  divine  law.     The  humble  follow  him 
"  quiet  and  composed,  but  he  that  is  ekvated  by 
*'  his  riches,  his  beauty,  or  any  other  advantage,  as 
"  if  he  stood  in  no  need  of  a  guide,  is  deserted  by 
**  lum  ;  and  though  such  a  person  may  appear  en- 
**  viable  to  man,  in  the  end  he  destroys  himself,  his 
?*  family,  and  the  state."     Agreeably  to  this,  he 

I.  Sraycj, 


130  OK    TlfE    niiLosopiiv 

says,  (Dc.  Lev;.  Lib.  10.)  "  Let  not  tlic  sue- 
"  cess  of  wicked  and  unjust  men,  who,  though  not 
'*  truly  happy,  ai-e  generally  reputed  to  be  so,  and 
"  who  are  extolled  in  poems  and  discourses,  drive 
"  thee  rashly  into  impiety  ;  nor  be  disturbed  tho' 
"  diey  should  continue  so  to  old  age,  and  this  pros- 
*'  perity  should  extend  to  their  children.  Nor  be 
"  thou  angn'  w  ith  the  gods  w  ho  permit  tliis,  or 
*'  think  that  diey  neglect  the  affairs  of  men ;  for 
"  they  will  not  be  exempt  from  punishment  after 
"  death." 

Veracit}-  is  another  moral  attribute  that  Plato  as- 
cribes to  God.  "  The  nature  of  God,  and  of 
"  demons,"  he  says,  (De.  Rep.  Lib.  2.)  '*ad- 
*'  mits  not  of  falsehood ;  for  God  is  altogether 
*'  simple,  and  tnie  in  his  words  and  actions.  He 
"  neither  changes  himself,  nor  can  he  deceive  o- 
"  thers,  by  vicious  speeches,  or  omens,  to  men 
*'  sleeping  or  awake."  This  he  says  by  way  of 
censure  on  Homer,  who  represents  Jupiter  as  act- 
ing in  this  deceitful  and  unworthy  manner,  dis- 
gi'acefiil  to  a  man,  ajid  much  more  so  to  a  God.  To 
the  divine  character  in  this  respect  he  seems  to  al- 
lude, though  w ith  much  obscurity,  wlien  he  says, 
(De.  Rep.  Lib.  6.)  *'  As  light  and  our  view  of  it, 
**  are  not  the  sun,  but  the  resemblance  of  the  sun, 

"  so 


OF    PLATO.  131 

"  SO  knowledge  and  trudiarc  die  image  oUhe  Goody 
*'  but  not  die  Good,"  meaning  God.  The  majes- 
ty of  the  Good  itself  is  greater.  Agreeably  to  this 
honourable  idea  of  the  divine  character,  he  says 
that  "  the  offerings  to  God,"  meaning  those  diat 
are  most  acceptable  to  him,  "  arc  honour,  vencra- 
''*  tion,  and  gratitude,"  (Eutliyphro.) 

But  notwithstanding  this,  we  shall  see  that,  like 
all  the  other  Jieathen  philosophers,  Plato  strongly 
recommends  a  conformity  to  the  idolatrous  rites  of 
religious  worship  established  in  his  countr}%  and 
even  the  rigorous  punishment  of  all  that  did  not 
conform  to  them  ;  so  far  were  they  from  following 
the  light  they  really  had,  and  so  little  prospect  wa.s 
there  of  the  world  in  general  being  enlightened,  and 
and  reformed,  by  their  instructions. 

The  writings  of  Plato  contain  several  just  ami 
beautiful  illustrations  of  the  providence  and  moral 
government  of  God.  "  God,'*  he  says,  (Politicus) 
*'  is  the  shepherd  of  mankind,  taking  the  same  care 
**  of  us  that  a  shepherd  does  of  his  sheep  and  oxen. 
*'  He  takes  care  (Dc.  Leg.  Lib.  10.)  of  the  smallest 
"  things  as  well  as  of  the  greatest.  None  ofihe 
*'  causes  of  neglect  in  men  can  take  place  with  rt-- 
**  spect  to  God.  We  all  acknoM ledge,"  he  says, 
1 2.  '  (lb.) 


r 


132  or    THE     PHILOSOrH'?' 

(lb.)  "  that  the  Gods  set  every  thing,  tliat  lliey  art 
*'  all  powerful  imd  good,  jeathc  best  possible,  nof 
*'  can  ihey  be  affected  Ijy  idleness  or  fear.  The}', 
*'  therefore,  cannot  des])ise  or  neglect  aiiy  thing  be- 
**  cause  it  is  small.  Besides,  there  is  more  difli- 
"  culty  in  seeing,  and  disposing  of,  small  things 
**  thiui  of  great  ones." 

"  The  universe,"  he  adds,  "  belongs  to  God, 
"  and  he  ^^  ill  not  neglect  what  is  his  own.  He 
*'  cannot  be  called  a  \\  ise  physician  who  only  at- 
*'  tends  to  the  body  in  general,  and  not  to  the  par- 
*'  ticular  parts.  Nor  do  governors  of  cities,  or 
"masters  of  families,  neglect  small -dungs.  Ar- 
"  chitects  also  make  use  of  small  stones  in  laying 
*'  the  lai-rcr  ones.  And  let  us  not  think  that  God, 
"  who  is  the  w  isest  of  all,  is  less  w  ise  than  man. 
*'  Besides  man  is  a  worshipper  of  die  gods,"  and 
tlierefore  more  deseiTing  of  his  attention  and 
care. 

To  shew  that  the  Supreme  Being  is  incapable  of 
I  fcing  diverted  from  the  just  administration  of  af- 
fairs by  any  imworthy  motive,  he  saf^s  (De.  Leg. 
Lib.  10.)  "  To  say  that  the  gods  aixr  easily  appcas- 
*'  ed,  is  to  compare  them  to  dogs  or  wolves,  which 
"  are  pacified  by  giving  tliem  part  of  the  plunder, 
**  and  tlitn  sufici-  them  to  worry  the  slicep.     Cha- 

**  riotecps 


JDF    PLATO.  133 

^  rioteersarenotto  be  bribed,  nor  arc  commanders 
*'  of  armies,  or  physicians,  nor  arc  husbandmer^ 
"  or  shepherds  to  l)e  deceiA  ed  in  this  manner,  nor 
*'  even  can  crafty  aaoIvcs thus decei\'e  dogs.  And 
^'  are  the  gods  the  greatest  guardians  of  the  great- 
*' est  things,  and  are  the  keepers  of  the  greatest 
''  things  worse  tlian  dogs,  or  rhen  of  moderate  ca* 
*'  pacit}'-,  who  never  act  unjustly  deceived  by  the 
^*  bribes  of  unjust  men  ?" 

There  is  haidly  any  advantage  that  men  ar^ 
possessed  of  that  Plato  does  not  ascribe  to  the  gods, 
and  to  their  good  Avili  to  men.  "  It  appeal's  to  me," 
he  says  fPhilebus,)  '•  that  God  sent  gifts  to  men  by 
*'  Prometheus,  together  with  fire.     It  is  not  by 
"  art,"  he  says,  (Epin.)  *'  but  by  nature,  and  the 
*'  favour  of  the  gods,  that  we  cultivate  the  earth." 
He  makes  God  the  author  of  friendsliip,  by  dispos- 
ing dispositions  that  are  similar,  and  formed  for 
friendship,  to  unite.  (Lysis,)  "  In  the  forming  of 
"  states,"  he  says,  (De.  Leg.  Lib.  4.)  "  we  must 
*'  begin  with  invoking  the  gods,  that  they  may  be 
propitious  to  us,  and  assist  us  in  making  laws." 
And  after  representing  the  advantage  of  the  right 
worship  of  the  gods,  as  the  most  important  of  all 
things  to  be  attended  to,  he  says, j( Epin.)  *'No  man 
"  can  rightly  teach  this  without  the  assistance  of 
1 3,  *'God." 


lo4'  CF     THE     lI'lLOSOrilV 

He  even  asciibcs  to  d'niiic  ins])iration  tlie  great 
thini^sthut  eminent  statesmen  do  for  their  eouutry, 
■witliout  understanding  the  nature,  or  foreseeing  the 
consequences  of  them,  adding,  that  "  all  good  mcQ 
*'  arc  in  some  sense  divine."  (Meno.)        i. 

It  must  have  been  among  the  Pythagoreans  that 
Pli.to  learned  ^vhat  he  writes,  but  in  a  manner  that 
is  very  unintelligible,  conci:ming  mmiberSy  of  \\  hich 
their  philosophy  made  great  use.  It  seems  most 
probable  that  by  metaphysical  reasoning  they  made 
tlie  Supreme  Being  to  be  represented  by  imity  ;  and 
as  all  numbers  consist  of  unity  repeated,  and  after 
thus  proceeding  from  it  are  resolvable  into  it  a- 
gain;  so  all  things,  after  proceeding  from  their 
Jirst  cause,  will  be  resolved  into  it.  But  this  is  not 
the  oni}'  use  that  Plato,  no  doubt  after  the  Pytha- 
goreans, made  of  this  comparison.  But  t\ hate\er 
be  the  knowledge  tliat  we  derive  from  this  source, 
Plato  ascribes  it  to  God.  "  We  affirm,"  he  says, 
(Epin.)  "  that  numbers  are  the  gift  of  God,  and 
*'  on  them  all  the  arts  of  life  depend,  but  this  no 
"  prophet  ( ixavjis  )  can  comprehend.  "W'hate- 
*'  vcr  is  \\  ickcd  and  irregular  is  deficient  ^idi  rc- 
*' spect  to  number.  Many  animals  cannot  learn 
*'  from  their  parents  the  use  of  numbers.  It  is 
*'  God  tliat  gives  us  tliis  power.     The  excellent 

"  ancient, 


or  PLATO  135 

"  ancients,"  he  says,  (Philebus)  "  who  were  near- 
"  cr  to  the  gods  than  we  are,  taught  us  that  the  uni- 
"  verse  consists  of  one  and  many^  which  ahvays  has 
"  been,  and  ever  will  be.  The  resemblance  of 
*'  numbers  dissimilar  in  their  nature,  when  reduced 
"  to  a  plane,  is  e\'ident ;  and  this  to  a  person  of 
*'  understanding  must  appear  not  to  be  a  human, 
*'  but  a  divine  wonder"  (Epin.)  We  do  not, 
however,  find,  that  this  mysterious  doctrine  of 
numbers  was  taken  up  by  any  of  the  succeeding 
sects  of  philosophy,  so  that  it  probably  died  with 
Plato. 


Section  II. 
Of  the  Polytheism  of  Plato, 

With  all  Plato's  knowledge  of  the  divinity,  of  his 
attributes,  and  his  universal  providence,  and  of  his 
preference  of  the  term  god  to  that  of  gods^  \\  hen  he 
is  treating  of  the  divine  nature,  he  was,  like  all  hea- 
thens, a  polytheist,  and  like  them  an  advocate  for 
the  strict  observance  of  the  idolatrous  rites  of  his 
country. 

He   seems  to  have  learned  the  doctrine  of  two 

principles  in  the  East,  %m  his  sayings  (De.  Leg. 

I  4.  Lib.  10.) 


136  OF    THE     rillLOSOPHY 

Lib.  10.) "  Are  there  one  or  more  souls?  Not  less 
"  than  two,  tlie  one  beneficent,  and  the  other  ma- 
,,  leficent*  ;"  and  also   from  his  saying,  as  was 
quoted  before,  that  "  we  must  look  to  something 
"else  than  god  for  the  source  of  evil."     But  this 
was  never  a  doctrine  that  prevailed  in  the  West. 
But  that  Plato  considered  more  being-s  than  one  to 
be  entitled  to  the  rank  of  gods,  is  evident  from  his 
saying  (Epin.)   "  why  should  we  not  take  the  part 
*'  of  god  who  is  the  author  of  all  good.    But  which 
*'  of  gods,  perhaps  the  hea'ucns,  which  we  consider 
*'  as  the  most  righteous,  as  all  the  demons  and  the 
"  other  gods  agree  to  honour  him  ;  and  pray  to 
*•  him  above  all."     What  he  meant  by  the  divini- 
ty of  the  heavens  ^  w  hetlier  the  Supreme  Being,  or 
the  sun,  is  not  clear. 

He  evidently  considered  all  the  celestial  bodies 
as  animated,  ajid  intitled  to  the  rank  of  gods.  "  The 
**  divine  race  of  stars,"  he  says,  (Epin.)  must  be 
*'  considered  as  celestial  animals,  with  most  beau- 
*'  tiful  bodic-s,  and  happy  blessed  souls  ;  and  tliat 

"  diey 

*  By  this  he  might  7nean   matter,  which  rvas  by 

seme  considered  as  refractory.,  and  the  only  source 

of  evil.     But  by  saying  it  was  maleficent,  /ic  seem- 

ed  to  consider  it  as  a  principle  that  had  intelligence, 

end  activity. 


OF    PLATO.  137 

**  they  have  souls  is  evident  from  the  regularity  of 
**  their  motions."  In  a  manner  that  to  me  is  per- 
fectly unintelligible,  he  derives  the  different  orders 
of  gods  from  the  diiferent  elements  in  nature,  plac- 
ing them,  after  mentioning  by  name  Jupiter,  Juno, 
and  the  demons,  according  to  their  dlflercnt  ranks, 
and  provinces  (Epin.)  He  seems,  too,  to  have  con. 
sidcred  the  earth  as  a  proper  deity,  and  the  parent  of 
the  animals  that  exist  upon  it./  "  For  the  same 
*'  reason"  he  says,  (Menexenus.)  "  that  a  inoaier 
"  bears  her  children,  the  eai'th  has  produced  men. 
*'  For  it  is  the  earth,  and  nothing  else,  that  supplies 
*'  them  with  food,  as  having  itself  produced  them." 

Plato's  dread  of  innovations  in  matters  of  religi- 
on, appeal's  from  the  following  passage  in  his  Epi- 
nomis.  "  A  legislator  of  the  least  understanding 
"  will  make  no  innovations,  and  take  care  not  to 
*'  turn  his  state  to  any  othei'  mode  of  worship,  or 
"  dare  to  move  what  his  country  has  established  by 
"  law  or  custom  concerning  sacrifices;  for  hd 
"  knows  that  no  mortal  can  come  at  any  certainty 
*'  with  respect  to  these  matters."  And  yet  he  ap- 
proved of  such  additions  to  the  public  rites  as 
would  be  an  improvement  upon  any  of  them.  ^'  A 
"  legislator,"  he  says  (lb.)  *'  will  be  free  from 
I  5.  "  blame 


138  OF     THE     PHILOSOrHY 

"  blame  if  he  thinks  better  of  the  gods  tlian  his 
*'  prcdecebsors,  aiid  by  excellent  discipline  honour 
"  them  with  hymns  and  praises,  and  live  according- 
"  ly."  This,  however,  Avas  not  introducing  the 
worship  of  new  gods. 

Having  distinguished  the  crime  oVtmpicty  into 
three  kinds,  viz.  the  maint:iining  that  there  are  no 
gods,  that  tliey  take  no  caie  of  human  affairs,  or 
that  they  are  easily  appeased  by  sacrifices,  (De. 
Leg.  Lib.  10.)  he  prescribes  the  following  punish- 
jnent  for  the  different  degrees  of  guilt  in  this  re- 
spect. 

*'  If  a  man  neglect  the  gods  by  omitting  sacrifi- 
'•  ces  and  despising  oatiis,  he  must  be  punished, 
**  lest  he  make  others  like  himself.  There  are  ma- 
*'  ny  who  deceive  others  in  this  manner,  deserving 
' '  to  die  more  than  one  or  two  deatlis.  Others  de- 
''  serve  only  castigation  or  imprisonment.  They 
"  who  tliink  that  the  gods  neglect  human  affairs, 
"  and  they  who  think  them  easily  appeased,  are  not 
*'  to  be  confounded.  They  who  think  so  not  from 
"  any  bad  principle,  but  a  kind  of  madness,  should 
*'  be  imprisoned  not  less  than  fn  e  years,  widiout 
"  any  citizen  being  allowed  to  go  near  diem,  except 
'*  those  who  will  admonish  them  of  tlieir  eiTors.  If 

"  after 


OF    PLATO.  139 

"after  this  they  contmue  m  their  impiety,  they 
"  must  be  punished  with  death." 

*'  Some  who  are  obstinate  in  these  opinions,  and 
"■  draw  many  after  them,  especially  the  common 
*'  people,  whole  families,  and  tlie  state,"  meaning 
no  doubt,  the  danger  of  influencing  die  whole  state, 
*'  should  be  confined  in  prisons  surrounded  by  the 
**  sea,  where  no  free  person  should  have  access  to 
*'  them,  and  when  they  die,  they  should  be  buried 
"  without  the  bounds  of  the  state  ;  and  if  any  per- 
"  son  should  bury  them,  he  should  be  accounted 
*'  guilty  of  impiety.  If  he  had  children,  they  should 
*'  be  taken  care  of  by  the  state  from  the  time  that 
"  the  father  was  condemned." 

"  There  should  also  be  a  general  law  to  prevent 
"  any  person  from  making  what  gods,  or  what  sa- 
*'  cred  rites,  he  pleases ;  and  for  this  reason  no  per- 
*'  sons  should  have  chapels  for  Avorship  in  their  o\mi 
*'  houses,  but  perform  their  worship  in  public,  and 
"  be  punished  like  they  do  so.  If  any  person,  not 
•'  from  childishness,  but  from  depraved  impiety, 
*'  act  in  this  manner,  by  sacrificing  either  in  private 
"  or  in  the  public  worship  of  the  gods,  let  him  be 
"  condemned  to  death  as  impure  ;  and  let  the  re- 
*'  gulators  of  the  laws  judge  concerning  the  mo- 
*'  lives  of  liis  conduct."     (De.  Leg.  Lib.  10.) 

So 


I'lO  OF     THE     rillLOSOPHy 

So  intolerant  were  the  \\iscst  and  best  disposed 
of  all  tlic  heathens  widi  respect  torclij^ion,  that  \vc 
cannot  wonder  at  the  dread  diey  entertained  of 
chi-istianity,  u  hen  it  began  to  spread,  as  it  was  ac- 
cording to  their  ideas,  the  hciglit  odmpicfy  ;  aim- 
ing at  nothing  less  than  the  overthrow  of  every 
thing  that  was  deemed  the  most  sacred,  and  ^^•hat 
had  been  established  from  time  immemorial,  and 
on  V  hich  it  was  universally  tiiken  for  granted  Uiat 
the  well  being  of  ever}-  state  depended. 

But  Christ  was  fully  aware  of  this  difficulty,  and 
he  apprized  his  followers  of  it.  He  enabled  them, 
however,  to  overcome  it,  though  they  were  for- 
waiTiedduit  they  should  be  hated  of  a//  men  for  the 
sake  of  his  name,  that  is,  merelj-  for  being  christi- 
ans,  and  that  they  who  killed  them  would  think  t/iey 
didGod  sennce ;  which  was  actually  the  case,  both 
with  respect  to  Jews  and  heathens.  And  great  as 
this  obstacle  was,  which  made  all  that  was  powerful 
in  the  world  the  enemy,  of  Christianity  it  finally 
triumphed ;  and  it  is  now  the  prevailing  religion  in 
all  those  countries  in  which  Jupiter,  Juno,  and 
numberless  odier  objects  of  heathen  worship,  Mere 
most  revered,  but  whose  names  are  now  to  be 
learned  from  history  only.  This  is  an  argument 
of  peculiar  importance  with  respect  to  the  e\  idence 

of 


OF    PLATO.  141 

of  Christianity,  but  can  only  be  felt  and  undci-stocd 
by  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  opinions 
and  prejudices  of  the  heathens  at  the  time  of  iis 
promulgation.  And  these  opinions  and  prcju- 
dices  appear  now  to  be  so  unreasonable,  and 
extraordinary,  that  a  faithful  account  of  them  is 
barely  credible-  That  Plato  was  both  sensible 
of  the  great  ignorance  of  the  common  people  on  the 
subject  of  religion,  and  of  the  Iiazard  that  might  be 
the  consequence  of  informing  them  better,  appears 
from  his  saying  (Timseus.)  "  It  is  a  difficult  thing 
"  to  discover  the  nature  of  the  creator  of  the  uni- 
*'  verse,  and  being  discovered,  it  is  impossible,  to 
"  expose  the  discovery  to  vulgar  understandings. 

This  intolerance  in  matters  of  religion  is  the  more 
extraordinary  in  the  case  of  Plato,  as  he  acknow- 
ledges the  imperfection  of  the  popular  religion 
when  it  was  first  instituted  in  Greece,  and  com- 
mends those  statemen  who  improved  it,  in  order  tQ 
do  more  honour  to  their  gods ;  and  as  he  con- 
demns such  poems  as  these  of  Homer  and  Hesiod, 
because  they  led  persons,  and  especially  young 
persons,  to  entertain  unworthy  notions  of  their 
gods  ;  when  it  must  have  been  evident  to  himself, 
and  every  one  else,  that  the  popular  religion,  which 
he  wished  to  perpetuate,  was  founded  altogether  on 
those  rerj^  notions.     Hesiod  and  Homer  did  not 


Ht 


142  OF    THE     PHILOSOPHV 

make  a  religion  for  the  Greeks,  but  onl}-  made  uge 
of  what  they  found  uni\ersally  received  to  embel- 
lish their  poems,  and  to  please  those  before  whom 
they  were  to  be  recited. 

So  much  was  Plato  offended  at  these  poems,  and 
all  others  of  the  same  nature  and  tendency,  that  he 
excluded  them  all,  without  exception,  from  his 
commonwealth,  though  he  A\ould  retain  such 
hymns  as  were  composed  in  honour  of  the  gods* 
But  even  the  hymns,  if  they  resembled  those  ascril^- 
ed  to  Homer,  or  those  of  Callimachus,  are  similar 
to  the  poems  of  Hcsiod  and  Homer,  repeating  the 
same  popular  and  absurd  stories.  "  We  reject," 
he  says  (De.  Rep.  Lib.  2.)  "  poems  from  this 
"  commonwealth,  because  they  deceive  men,  as 
*'  Hesiod  by  his  accounts  of  Coelum  and  Satuni ; 
*'  which,  if  they  were  true,  ought  to  be  concealed 
*'  rather  than  divulged.  For  it  must  not  be  told  a 
"  young  man,  that  the  greatest  ciimes  may  be 
"  committed  without  any  thing  extraordinar}-hap- 
"  pening,  or  that  a  man  who  punishes  an  offending 
"  parent  docs  no  wrong,  but  what  the  greatest  and 
"  best  of  the  gods  have  done.  The  imitation  of 
"  the  poets,"  he  says,  (Dc.  Rep.  Lib.  3.)  *'  at- 
"  tended  to  in  early  years  affects  the  morals  and 
"  nature  itself,  with  respect  to  the  body,  the 
*'  speech,  and  the  \'Xiry  thought."  This 


OF    PLATO.  143 

This  is  the  more  extraordinan^  in  Plato,  as  he  a- 
sci  ibes  to  tlie  poets  a  real  ins-^piration,  the  same  that 
was  generally  ascribed  to  the  priestesses  of  Apol- 
lo at  Delphi  (Meno.)  "  Poets  who"  he  says,  "  re- 
*'  scmble the  Coi-}bantes,  \\ ho  are  seized  with  a  di- 
"  vine  afflatus,  and  knoAV  not  w  hat  they  do.  They 
"  are  the'  intei-preters  of  the  gods."  (lo.) 


Section   III. 

Of  the  Human  Soul. 

The  sentiments  of  Plato  concerning  the  human 
soul  are  by  no  means  clear  and  distinct,  nor  are 
they  pursued  by  him  to  their  natural  consequences, 
as  they  uerc  by  the  stoics  afterwards. 

Matter  was  always  acknowledged  to  be  incapa- 
ble of  any  kind  o{  action,  and  was  always  thought 
to  be  acted  upon  ;  whereas  the  igneous  nature  of  the 
soul  was  supposed  to  give  it  natural  activity.  A- 
greeable  to  this,  Plato  says  (De.  Leg.  Lib.  10.) 
"  The  soul  has  the  power  of  moving  itself." 

He  is  not  uniform  in  denying  what  was  called 
passion  to  the  mjnd.  He  must,  therefore,  mean  it 
in  a  gross  sense  when  he  says  (De.  Leg.  Lib.  10.) 
*'  Where  there  is  passion,  there  must  be  gcnerati- 

"  on ; 


144  or    THE    PHILOSOPHY 

"  on  ;  and  this  applies  to  the  body  ,"  meaning,  no 
doubt  that  where  ^hcrc  is  generation,  there  must  be 
a  succession  of  beings  produced  from  one  another, 
that  the  death  of  some  may  make  room  for  others ; 
whereas  mind  is  incapable  of  any  such  thing,  and 
consequently  of  that  kind  of  passion  which  leads  to 
it.  It  must,  therefore,  be  immortal,  and  in  this 
doctrine  Plato  is  perfectly  uniform  and  consist- 
ent. 

"  Every  soul,"  he  says  (Phcednis.)  "  is  im- 
"  mortal.  That  \\  hich  is  always  in  motion  is  from 
•'  eternity,  but  that  v^  hich  is  mo^•ed  by  another 
"  must  have  an  end."  Accordingly  he  mention- 
ed the  pvc-exhtcnce^  as  well  as  the  iTmnonality^  of 
tlie  soul ;  and  in  the  East  these  two  doctrines  al- 
ways went  together,  and  are  al\\ays ascribed  to  Py- 
thagoras ;  the  soul  and  the  body  being  supjTOsed  to 
have  only  a  temporary  connection,  to  ans\ver  a  par- 
ticular puq:!0£e.  "  The  soul  existed,"  he  says 
(De.  Leg.  Lib.  10.)  "  before  bodies  were  produc- 
*'  ed,  and  It  Is  tlie  chief  agent  in  the  changes  and 
"  the  ornament  of  the  body." 

Agreeably  to  this  doctrine  of  pre-existence,  Pla- 
to maintained  that  all  the  knowledge  we  seem  to 
acquire  here  is  only  the  recollection  of  what  ^\e 

knew 


or   rLATo.  145 

knew  in  a  former  state.  '*  It  belioves  man,"  he 
says  (Phoedrus.)  "  to  understand  how  many  sensati- 
**  ons  are  united  in  one,  and  tliis  is  the  recollection 
*'  of  what  the  soul,  when  in  a  state  of  perfection 
"  with  God,  saw  before." 

So  greatly  superior,  in  the  idea  of  all  the  heathen 
philosophers,  was  the  soul  to  the  body,  the  latter 
being  intirely  subservient  to  tlie  former,  that  we  can- 
not  wonder  that  they  consider  the  soul  as  the  \\hole 
se/fof  a  man,  and  the  body  as  a  thing  foreign  to 
him.  "The  mind,"  Plato  says,  (De.  Leg.  Lib. 
12.)  '*  is  all  that  we  call  oursehcs,  and  the  bodv 
■*•  attends  it:  meaning  as  a  servant.  It  is  only  af- 
"  ter  death," he  says  (De.  Rep.  Lib.  10.)  "  when  it 
"  has  got  rid  of  the  clog  of  the  body,  that  we  can 

"see  what  the  soul  really  is; whetlxi?r  cbm- 

*'  pound  or  simple,  and  the  whole  of  its  condition." 
It  is  on  this  supposition  of  the  independence  of  tlit? 
Jriind  on  the  body,  that  he  advances  one  of  his  ar- 
guments for  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  "  The 
*'  soul,"  he  says,  (lb.)  "  cannot  die  b}^  any  affecti- 
**■  of  the  body,  but  only  by  some  disorder  peculiar 
*'  to  itself.  The  soul  by  the  death  of  the  body 
**  does  not  become  more  unjust,  and  the  death  of 
*'  the  body  is  not  the  punishment  of  its  injustice, 
*J  but  other  punishments.    For  death  is  to  it  a  free- 

K,  "  dom 


14G  OF    THE    PHILOSOPHY 

"  dom  from  every  evil.  Since,  then,  neither  the 
"  death  of  the  body,  nor  its  own  depravity,  can 
*'  destroy  the  soul,  it  must  be  immortah" 

That  the  souls  of  men  arc  emanations  from  the 
Su])reme  Being,  the  fountain  of  all  intelligence, 
seems  to  ha^•cbeen  taken  for  granted  by  Plato,  but 
I  do  not  find  it  distinctly  expressed  in  any  part  of 
his  writings.  He  seems,  hov.ever,  to  allude  to  it 
in  a  passage  that  I  quoted  before.  But  he  general- 
ly cop.siders  it  as  retaining  its  individuality  after 
death;  as  when  he  says  (De.  Leg.  Lib.  12.)  "  In 
*'  ti'uth  the  soul  of  each  of  us  is  immortal,  and 
*'  goes  to  the  other  gods,  to  give  an  account  of  its 
"  actions."  Thio  agrees  with  his  uniform  lan- 
guage about  the  rewai"ds  of  virtue,  and  the  punish- 
ments of  vice,  after  dcadi.  Whether  souls  are  to 
be  reunited  to  their  source  afterwards,  which  he 
probably  supposed, as  being  held  to  be  die  necessary 
consequence  of  their  being  originally  derived  from 
it,  this  retribution  he  must  huAC  thought  \\ ould 
previously  take  place. 

\Vith  respect  to  the  threefold  dhision  of  man ^ 
a  doctrine  held  by  later  philosophers,  I  do  not  find 
any  Uiing  clear,  or  consistent,  in  Plato.  And  the 
term  (ijyux'?)  which  in  other  writers  signifies  die 
mere  animal  principle  in  man  of  which  they  partake 

in 


or  PLATO.  147 

common  with  the  brutes,  he  appHcG  to  the  highest 
principle,  that  oi  intdUge?ice  in  him,  when  he  says 
(Alcib.  1.)  "  The  body  is  not  the  man,  but  the  soul 
{ijvxn)  which  makes  use  of,  and  commands,  the 
body." 

Section  IV. 

Of  Plrtiies  and  Vices 

On  the  subject  of  mrtuc  and  "oice  it  may  be  tak- 
ken  for  granted  that  the  sentiments  of  Plato  were 
not,  in  general,  different  from  those  of  Socrates ;  so 
that  it  is  unnecessary  to  make  quotations  from  his 
writings  recommending  the  practice  of  virtue,  and 
dissuading  from  that  of  vice.  His"  belief  in  the 
being  and  providence  of  God,  and  in  a  future  state 
of  retribution,  must  have  laid  a  foundation  for  pie- 
ty, and  the  practice  of  virtue  in  general,  if  what  he 
advances  on  those  subjects  were  his  real  senti- 
ments ;  and  the  frequency  with  v.hich  he  uro-es 
them,  and  the  stress  that  he  lays  upon  them,  makes 
it  difficult  to  believe  that diey  wqvq  not. 

In  these  respects  he  comes  nearer  to  the  doctrines 
of  revelation  tlian  any  other  of  the  heathen  philoso- 
phers that  came  after  him,  even  than  Socrates  him- 
self.    But  his  arguments  in  proof  of  the  immortai- 
K  2.  itv 


i4S  Of    THE     PHILOSOPHY 

itv  of  the  soul,  and  also  those  for  a  future  state,  ar« 
so  weak,  and  tliey  made  so  little  impression  on 
those  diat  eup.ie  alter  him,  ihiit  it  is  barely  possible 
that  he  could  have  been  influenced  by  them  him- 
self; and  his  writings  in  general  have  much  die 
air  of  being  calculated  to  plciise  the  generality  of 
his  countnmcn,  with  whom  those  opinions  wer? 
in  some  sense  popular,  and  to  ^hom  they  would, 
of  course,  tend  to  recommend  him.  And  it  is  evi- 
dent f)om  his  histor}-  that  he  was  much  more  desir- 
ous of  general  applause  than  his  master.  On  this 
accoui^.t  there  will  ah\a}s  remain  some  doubt  with 
respect  to  the  real  sentiments  of  Plato  on  these  im- 
portant subjects.  Judging  of  him  by  his  WTitings, 
we  Ctinnot  wonder  that  his  philosophy  was  held  in 
such  high  estimation  b}'  many  of  the  more  learn- 
ed of  the  eaily  christians,  and  that  they  embraced  it 
in  preference  to  any  other. 

With  respect  to  the  proper  objects  of  men's 
pursuits  in  life,  Plato  says  (Philebus)  Uiat  "  nei- 
"  thcr  pleasure,  nor  wisdom,  ai'C  to  be  ranked  with 
"  thiiigs  diat  are  absolutely  good^  because  ^\hat  is 
*'  good  is  perfect,  and  sufiicient  of  itself,'*  A\hieh, 
he  observes  Mill  not  apply  to  ehher  ofthem.  But  he 
M  as  far  from  entertaining  the  exu-avagant  opinion 
of  the  Stoics,  in  classing  bodi  pleasure  and  pain  a- 

mong 


OF    fLATO.  149 

mon^the  things  that  are  absokitely  indifferent,  un- 
worthy of  the  attention  of  a  wise  man,  and  incapa- 
ble of  affecting  him.  ,  -.^ 
There  are  three  remai'kable  exceptions  to  the 
moral  maxims  of  Plato,  in  which  he  would  not 
have  had  the  concun'ence  of  Socrates,  viz.  his  re- 
commending a  community  of  women  in  his  com- 
monwealth, his  approbation  of  perjuiy  m  matters 
of  love,  and  in  the  licentiousness  which  he  would 
allow  soldiers  on  a  militaiy  expedition. 

How  little  must  Plato  have  known  of  human 
^lature,  and  human  life,  when  he  recommended  a 
community  of  women  in  his  republic  (De.  Rep. 
Lib.  5.)  and  an  education  of  them  the  same  with 
men  and  together  with  them,  even  so  far  as  to  ex- 
ercise in  the  gymnasia  naked ;  saying  that  nothing 
that  was  useful  ouglit  to  be  deemed  shameful,  that 
in  former  times  it  w^as  thought  shameful  for  men 
to  exercise  naked,  but  that  now  it  was  no  longer  so. 
Being  naturally  capable  of  doing  many  of  the  du- 
ties of  men,  such  as  serving  their  country  both  in 
the  army  and  in  civil  offices,  they  ought,  he  says 
to  receive  an  education  proper  to  qualify  them  for 
those,  though  they  should  be  exempted  from  what 
.w^s  most  laborious  in  any  of  those  offices.     By 

K  3.  -thi? 


150  or     THE     PHILOSOPHV 

this  means,  and  sexual  commerce  being  confmcd 
to  a  proper  age,  wliich  he  makes  to  be  thirl)-  for 
for  men,  and  twenty  for  v\omen,  a  more  hardy  race 
of  men  he  says,  would  be  produced. 

These  health}-  women  being  accessible  to  more 
men,  he  says,  would  have  more  children,  though 
this  now  appears  to  be,  by  a  \vise  providence,  con- 
tiv.ry  to  fact,  as  prostitutes  have  seldom  any  chil- 
dien  at  all.  The  ehildien  thus  promiscuously 
produced  he  would  have  nursed  and  educated  to- 
getlier,  the  stronger,  howe\'er,  in  one  place,  and 
the  weaker  in  anoUiCr  by  women  cngi\ged  by  the 
state  for  that  pui^pose,  w  ithout  gi^'ing  them  any  in- 
timation concerning  their  parents.  He  would  not, 
howe'.cr,  allow  of  any  sexual  intercourse  between 
men  and  their  own  mothers  or  daughters,  &:c.  But 
it  is  not  necessary  to  follow  him  through  all  the 
details  of  so  visionary  and  absurd  a  scheme. 

Indeed,  the  objections  to  this  scheme  are  so  ob- 
vious, and  so  numerous,  that  it  is  not  wortli  while 
to  enter  into  any  serious  discussion  of  it.  I  would 
only  obscne  that  if  frequent  divorces  have  been 
found,  as  is  universally  acknowledged,  to  be  attend- 
ed with  much  evil,  a  community  of  women,  which 
it  has  always  been  the  \  ery  first  step  of  civilization 
to  prevent,  must  be  attendul  with  infinitely  more, 
and  greater.  With 


OF    PLATO.  151 

With  how  much  more  wisdom  did  our  Saviour 
forbid  even  divorces  except  on  account  of  adultery. 
When  the  change  of  a  partner  for  life  is  considered 
as  imposiihle^  the  most  discordant  minds>reconciIe 
themselves  to  it,  and  live  together  more  happily  than 
if  they  had  the  liberty  to  separate,  ^\'hich,  in  that 
case,  they  would  >ipon  every  trifling  disgust  be 
thinking  of,  and  contriving ;  and  this  being  the 
case  of  a  whole  society,  jealousy,  and  violence  in 
every-  form,  would  be  unavoidable. 

Besides,  no  mode  of  education  is  equal  to  that 
which  arises  from  tlie  affection  of  parents  to  their 
own  childi*en,  and  the  attachment  of  childien  to 
their  parents.  This  is  a  source  of  the  purest  satis- 
faction to  both,  and  to  the  ver}^  close  of  life.  And 
what  has  any  parent  to  lock  to  in  the  infirmities  of 
old  age  compai-able  to  the  affection  and  attention 
that  he  may  reasona]:)ly  expect  from  his  own  chil- 
dren ?  What  a  miserable  legislator  must  that  be, 
who  would  deprive  mankind  of  the  purest  source 
of  domestic  happiness  for  any  advantage  of  a  politi- 
cal nature?  Besides,  ^vhat  is  the  great  object  of  all 
true  policy ;  but  to  give  men  the  secure  posses- 
sion of  their  private  rights,  and  individual  enjoy- 
ments ? 

K4.  The 


152  »F     THE     PHILOSOPHY 

The  second  great  objection  to  the  moral  maxims 
of  Plato  is  his  allowing  of  perjury  in  mattera  of 
love.  "  The  laws  of  God,"  he  says,  (Convivium.) 
"  allow  of  oaths,"  meaning  a  breach  of  oadis,^"  in 
"  affairs  of.love.  God,"  he  says,  (Hippias  Major.) 
"  pardons  diosc  \\ho  perjure  diemselves  with  re- 
"  spect  to  love,  as  if  they  were  childi-en,  and  did 
"  not  know  what  they  did."  It  appears  too  that 
the  laus  of  Athens  took  no  cognizance  of  these 
oaths.  But  the  Uw  of  God,  in  our  scriptures, 
makes  no  such  distinction.  It  requires  the  strict- 
est performance  of  eveiy  oatli. 

Plato  in  his  books  on  the  Republic,  censures 
with  much  severity  the  vice  of  Sodomy,  which  was 
too  generally  practiced  in  Greece.  *'  We  must  ab- 
"  stain,"  he  says,  (Dc.  Leg.  Lib.  8.)  "  from  all 
*'  commerce  with  males.  For  this  is  being  worse 
"  than  birds  and  beasts,  among  which  the  males 
*'  have  no  commerce  with  otlier  males,  but  with 
"females  only;  and  if  it  be  not  concealed  from 
"■  both  men  and  women,  the  criminal  may  bepu- 
"  nished  by  deprivation  of  all  ci\il  offices,  and  be 
'*  treated  like  a  foreigner."  This,  however,  is 
prescribing  a  very  mild  and  inadequate  punishment 
for  the  most  abominable  of  crimes- 

Notwithstanding,  this  he  says,  (De.  Rep.  Lib. 

5.) 


or  PLATO  153 

5.)  that  "on  an  expedition  soldiers  should  be  al- 
*'  lowed  unbounded  licence  both  witli  respect  to 
*'  women  and  boys,  as  by  this  means  they  will  be 
*'  more  inflamed  to  gain  the  victory,"  meaning 
that  with  the  expectation  of  this  indulgence  they 
will  be  more  ready  to  enlist,  and  to  engage  in  any 
hazardous  enterprize. 

The  laws  of  Moses  and  of  God  relating  to  war 
are  very  different  from  this.  According  to  them, 
wherever  men  are,  in  peace  or  in  war,  the  same 
rules  of  morality  are  binding  upon  them,  and  the 
same  punishment  awaits  the  infringmentof  them. 


Section  V, 

Of  Deaths  and  the  Consequence  of  it. 

\\\  what  Plato  says  on  the  subject  of  death,  and 
the  consequence  of  it,  we  see  the  stress  that  he  laid 
on  the  practice  of  Virtue  in  general,  though  with- 
out distinguishing  particular  virtues  or  vices ;  and 
if  he  may  be  understood  litenally,  his  sentiments 
are  decidedly  in  favour  of  a  future  state  of  retribu- 
tion, in  which  individuals  will  retain  their  separate 
consciousness,  at  least  till  their  proper  rewards  or 
punishments  are  coijipleted.  But  much  of  what 
K5.  hfi 


154  OF     THE     PHILOSOPHY 

he  advances  on  this  subject  has  such  a  mixture  of 
imagination,  and  of  popular  notions,  that  many 
I^ersons  enteitain  doubts  of  his  writing  what  he  re- 
ally thought. 

*'  It  is  impossible,"  he  says,  (Epin.)  "  that  there 
*'  should  be  much  happiness  in  this  life ;  but  there 
*  is  great  hope  that  after  death  e\'er}'  person  may 
"  obtain  the  things  that  he  most  wishes  for.  Nor 
"  is  this  new,  but  known  bodi  to  the  Greeks  and 
"  Barbarians."  This  is  the  only  passage  that  I 
liave  found  in  the  WTitings  of  Plato  in  w  hich  he 
lays  any  stress  on  the  argument  from  general  con- 
sent, or  Uadition,  in  favour  of  the  reality  of  a  fu- 
ture state ;  and  here  he  intimates  some  degree  of 
doubt,  by  only  saying  that  there  is  great  hope  with, 
respect  to  it.     In  other  places  he  expresses  more. 

*'  In  truth,"  he  says,  (De.  Leg.  Lib.  12.)  "  the 
"  soul  of  each  of  us  is  immortal,  and  goes  to  other 
*'  gods,  to  give  an  account  of  its  actions,  as  die  laws 
"  of  our  countr}'  express ,  w'hich  giAes  the  greatest 
"  confidence  to  good  men,  and  terror  to  die  wick- 
"  ed,  lest  they  should  suffer  the  greatest  punish- 
*'  ments  after  death  for  the  crimes  committed  in 
"  this  life.  A  happy  man,"  he  says,  (Epin.)  "  will 
'^  learn  all  that  he  can  from  nature,  j^i-suaded  that 

"  thus  he  \\\\\  live  most  happily,  and  when  he  dies 

"he 


OF    PLATO.  155 

**  he  will  go  to  a  place  suited  to  his  \'irtuc  ;  and  be- 
**  ing  thus  truly  initiated,  and  having  acquired 
"  true  wisdom,  will  pass  the  rest  of  his  life  in  the 
*'  contemplation  of  die  most  beautiful  objects. 
"  Justice  is  the  best  reward  of  the  soul,  and  we 
"  should  not  envy  it  those  rewards  of  justice  and 
*'  universal  virtue,  which  God  has  prepared  for  it 
"  in  this  life,  or  the  next."  "  The  gods,"  he  adds, 
"  must  know  who  are  just,  and  who  are  unjust, 
*'  and  must  love  the  one  and  hate  the  other,  and  they 
"  wdll  give  to  their  friends  every  good  that  is  in  their 
"  power."     (De.  Rep.  Lib.  10.) 

Plato  introduces  one  of  his  speakers  in  (De. 
Leg.  Lib.  10.)addi"essing  a  young  man  licentious- 
ly disposed  in  the  following  manner.  "  O  young 
*'  man,  who  think  that  you  are  o^•erlookcd  by  the 
*'  gods,  consider  that  there  is  a  seat  of  justice  with 
"  the  gods  who  dwell  in  heaven,  thatthc}-  ^\hoare 
*'  wicked  may  join  the  wicked,  and  they  avIio  are 
"  good  may  join  the  good,  in  life  and  in  death,  and 
''  do  and  suifer  what  others  like  them  do  and  suf- 
"  fer.  Neither,  therefore,  do  you ,  or  any  other 
''  person,  presume  that  you  will  be  happy,  so  as  to 
*'  escape,  or  brave  the  justice,  of  God.  You  are 
"  not  overlooked  by  him,  though  you  should  go  to 
*'  the  bottom  of  the  cartli,  or  ascend  into  the  hea- 

"  vens, 


156  or     THE     PKILOSOTHY 

'*  vens,  but  shall  suffer  according  to  your  deserts, 
"  whether  here,  in  the  infernal  regions,  or  in  some 
*'  distant  place."  This,  however,  being  the  ad- 
dress  of  an  old  citizen  to  a  young  one,  may  be  no- 
thing more  than  popular  language,  calculated  to 
reclaim  him  from  his  \ices,  which  would  be  inju- 
rious to  die  stite  ;  using  such  arguments,  as  whe- 
tlitr  tliought  to  have  any  A\eight  b}'  the  speaker  or 
not,  might  make  some  impression  on  tlie  hearer. 

The  state  of  diose  who  die  in  battle,  in  die  ser- 
vice of  their  country,  Plato  gives  on  the  audiority 
of  Hesiod;  saying,  (De.  Rep.  Lib.  5.)  "  If  Hesi- 
**  od  may  be  believed,  they  become  terrestrial  de- 
*'  mons,  expellers  of  evil,  and  the  guardians  of 
*'  mankind."  For  this,  therefore,  he  does  not 
make  himself  responsible. 

In  his  Phoedrus  Plato  gives  such  an  account  of 
the  state  of  souls  after  death,  widi  the  various  peri- 
ods of  their  purifications  and  transmigrations,  as  it 
is  possible  he  might  have  heard  in  Uic  East,  but 
such  as  it  was  impossible  he  could  be  in  earnest  ia 
professing  his  belief  of. 

*'  Souls  do  not,"  he  says,  "  return  to  the  source 
"from  which  they  came  in  less  than  ten  thousand 
«'  years.     For  they  do  not  recover  their  wings  till 

*'  that 


ot    pr.ATO.  157 

*'  that  time,  except  the  souls  of  those-  who  truly 
•<  philosophize,  and  who  love  boys,"  (meaning 
probably  sensual  pleasure  in  general)  "  and  wis- 
*'  dom  at  tlie  same  time.  These  perform  it  in  the 
*'  third  circuit  of  a  thousand  yeai's ;  if  after  this 
*'  they  three  times  chuse  this  life,  thus  recovering 
"  their  wings  after  three  tliou sand  years.  But  other 
"  souls  are  judged  after  the  first  term  of  life,  some 
"  of  them  going  to  a  place  of  judgment  under  the 
"  earth,  to  suffer  according  to  their  deserts,  others 
*'  ascending  to  a  place  in  the  heavens  suited  to  their 
"  merit  when  tliey  were  in  the  form  of  men.  lliese, 
*'  after  a  thousand  years  take  their  choice  again^ 
"  some  the  life  of  a  brute,  and  again  that  of  man, 
"  provided  it  had  formerly  been  the  soul  of  a  man. 
"  For  souls  that  have  not  seen  truth  cannot  assume 
<'  that  form."  This  particular  period  of  three 
thousand  years  Herodotus  had  from  the  priests  of 
Egypt,  who  said  that  "  when  the  soul  had  gone 
"  through  bodies  of  eveiy  kind,  terrestial,  ma- 
*'  rine,  and  also  those  of  birds,  it  entered  again  into 
*'  that  of  a  man,  and  that  this  was  accomplished  in 
*'  the  space  of  three  thousand  years.  This  ac- 
"  count,"  he  adds,  "  some  Greeks,  whose  name^ 
"  he  forebore  to  mention,  clftim  as  their  ov/n.J* 

(Lib.2.ch.  123.  Euterpe.) 

Still 


158  or     THE     PHILOSOrHY 

Still  less  can  we  think  Plato  to  have  given  any 
credit  to  the  following  vcn-  al)surd  relation,  which, 
however,  he  recites  at  full  length  (De.  Rep.  Lib. 
10.)  and  without  intimating  any  doubt  of  its  truth. 
It  is  the  story  of  one  r>is,  of  Armenia,  Avho  after 
having  lain  dead  on  the  field  of  battle  twelve  days, 
came  to  life,  and  then  related  what  he  said  he  had 
seen  in  the  infernal  regions,  the  whole  agreeable 
to  the  fables  of  the  poets,  with  many  absurd  additi- 
ons ;  as  that  of  the  soulsof  particular  persons  chus- 
ing  to  pass  into  the  bodies  of  different  animals,  that 
of  Ajax  into  a  lion,  that  of  Orpheus  into  a  swan, 
from  his  hatred  of  women,  that  of  Thamyris  into  a 
nightingale,  and  that  of  Agammemnon  into  an  ea- 
gle, &:c.  &;c. 

As  Plato's  account  of  a  future  state  has  such  a 
mixture  of  fancy  and  fable,  and  so  little  support 
from  argument,  his  declaration  of  his  belief  of  it 
will  admit  of  much  doubt,  as  well  as  what  he  says 
of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  in  general.  They 
were  Eastern  doctrines,  to  this  day  firmly  believed 
by  the  Hindoos  and  others,  though  Plato  gives  no 
intimation  whence  he  had  them.  But  excepting 
this  doubtful  case  of  Plato  himself,  they  never  gain- 
ed any  degree  of  credit  in  the  West. 

How  happy,  then,  should  we  think  ourselves, 

and 


OF    PLATO.  159 

and  how  thankful  to  God,  for  the  glorious  light  erf 
the  gospel,  which  leaves  us  under  no  doubt  or  un- 
certainty with  respect  to  a  future  life  in  general,  or 
the  different  conditions  of  the  righteous  and  tlie 
wicked  in  it ;  and  especially  for  that  most  satisfac- 
tory'^ evidence  of  it  in  the  death  and  resurrection  of 
Jesus,  as  furnishing  at  the  same  time  2l  proofs  and 
also  a  pattern  of  a  future  universal  resurrection  ; 
■\^hen  all  that  are  in  the  granges  shall  hear  the  voice 
of  the  son  of  man  and  comeforth^  some  to  the  resur- 
rection of  life^  and  others  to  that  of  condemnation  ; 
and  when  all  men  shall  receiiie  according  to  their 
works.  "What  Aveight  has  the  mere  opinion  of 
Plato,  or  that  of  any  heathen  philosophers,  admit- 
ting them  to  have  been  ever  so  much  in  earnest, 
compared  to  this  ? 

We  find  nothing  in  our  scriptures  concerning 
the  fanciful  doctrine  o^ pre-existence^  or  of  the  state 
of  souls  separate  from  the  body ;  but  are  assured 
that  as  the  man  dies,  the  whole  man  shall  rise  again, 
with  a  perfect  recollection  of  all  that  he  had  done, 
and  therefore  satisfied  Avith  respect  to  the  state  to 
which  he  will  be  sentenced  corresponding  to  it. 
And  this  is  all  that  w^e  are  at  present  concerned  to 
know.  It  follows  from  this  that  we  shall  know 
our  fi'iends  as  well  as  ourselves.    Jesus  assured 


ICO  OF     THE     PHILOSOPHY,    ScC. 

his  apostles,  that  then  t/iey  should  be  nmth  him 
ivherccer  he  should  be,  and  see  and  partake  of  his 
glory y  and  tJiat  this  \^  ill  also  be  shared  by  all  ivho 
believe  on  him  through  their  wordy  that  is  all  sin- 
cere christians  to  the  end  of  the  world.  We  are  al- 
so assured  that  all  those  who  shall  suffer  with  him 
shall  also  reign  ivith  him  for  ccer.  What  ample 
encouragement  is  this  to  a  life  of  virtue,  and  how 
will  it  enable  us  to  bear  all  the  troubles  of  this  life, 
and  the  pains  of  death,  be  they  what  they  may,  with 
such  an  expectation.  This  is  such  hope  and  joy 
set  before  us,  as  was  set  before  Jesus  himself,  and 
by  w  hich  he  was  enabled  to  bear  liis  cross,  and  to 
make  no  account  of  the  shame  of  that  ignominious^ 
as  well  as  painful,  deatli. 


OF 


161 


b  I 
THE  PHILOSOPHY 

of 
A  R  I  S  T  O  T  L  E. 

INTRODUCriON. 


Ai 


.RISTOTLE  wa-  the  disciple  of  Plato,  but  \± 
appears  to  have  been  greatly  superior  to  hira,  and 
indeed  to  all  the  other  Grecian  philosophers,  in  ge- 
nius and  good  sense.  He  had  also  considerable 
advantage  from  having  been  tutor  to  Alexander 
the  Great,  and  from  being  assisted  by  him  in  the 
study  of  nature,  which  was  wholly  neglected  by 
all  the  other  phiiosopliers ;  as  they  confined  them- 
selves to  subjects  of  mere  speculation,  which  re- 
quires little  or  no  knowledge  of  external  things. 

Aristotle,  however,  himself  followed  them  too 
closely  in  their  own  track  ;  and  he  seems  to  have 
taken  great  pleasure  in  collecting,  and  confuting, 
all  tlieir  sentiments  ;  in  so  much  that,  if  he  could 
be  depended  upon,  it  would  be  easy  to  ascertain  the 

L.  opinioni> 


ir)2  OF     IHE     rHILOSOfHV 

opinions  ol'ull  the  pliilo.soj)hcrs  wlio  had  preceded 
him.  But  he  is  said  to  have  gixatly  misrepresent- 
ed tliem,  in  order  to  make  it  the  more  eas\-  for  him 
to  expose  and  confute  them,  which  it  is  evident  he 
took  much  pleasure  in  doing,  that  his  own  opinions 
might  appear  the  more  original  iuid  respectable. 
Ne\  er  perhaps,  was  so  much  genius  employed  on 
more  useless  subjects  tlian  in  all  tliat  we  see  in  the 
greater  part  of  the  writings  of  Aristotle.  The 
works  of  Thomas  Aquinas,  aiid  the  christian 
schoolmen,  are,  in  this  respect,  far  inferior  to  his  ; 
but  the  subjects  aie  much  more  important,  and 
the  trifling,  as  well  as  the  subdety,  less. 

Though  the  reading  of  the  disquisitions  of  Aris- 
totle on  theological  and  metaphysical  subjects  be  un- 
speakably tiresome,  so  that,  probably,  no  person  in 
this  age,  who  has  any  proper  idea  of  the  value  of 
his  time,  will  ever  read  a  tenth  part  of  them  ,  many 
of  his  conclusions,  and  summaries,  are  clear  and 
striking ;  far  more  so  dian  those  of  Plato,  without 
affecting  his  sublimity,  the  art  of  his  dialogues,  or 
the  eleg-ance  of  his  style ;  his  aim  seaming  to  have 
been  nothing  more  than  to  express  his  own  ideas, 
such  as  they  were,  in  the  most  intelligible  lan- 
guage. At  least,  so  it  appears  to  me,  notwith- 
standing his  acknowledging    to  Alexander,  that 

though 


or    ARISTOTLE.  163 

though  he  had  published  his  opinions,  they  were  in 
fact  not  published,  as  only  those  ^vho  had  been  par- 
ticulai'ly  instructed  by  him  could  understand 
them. 

This   may  be  true  with  respect  to  some  of  his 
writings,  but  it  certainly  is  not  so  with  respect  to 
the  generality  of  them ;  and  of  this  the  extracts  that 
I  shall  make  from  many  of  them  will  enable  the 
reader  to  judge  for  himself,  in  what  he  writes  con- 
cerning the  Supreme  Being,  the  human  soul,  and 
the  nature  of  virtue  and  vice ;   which  are  all   that, 
in  this  work,  I  propose  to  consider ;  as  nothing  else 
in  the  writings  of  the  heathen  philosophers  is  of 
such  a  nature  as  that  it  can  be  brought  into  compa- 
.  rison  with   the  doctrine  of  our  scriptures ;  since 
the  bulk  of  their  wTitings  relate  to  subjects  wh?ch 
probably  never  entered  the  thoughts  of  luiy  of  the 
sacred  WTiters,  and  indeed  were  the  least  important 
in  themselves,  being  frivolous  in  the  extreme. 

It  has  been  usual  to  class  Aristotle  amotig  Ai//^- 
is!s,  and  his  writings,  as  translated  and  commented 
upon  by  Averroes,  in  a  later  period,  were  the  great 
source  of  modern  atheism  and  infidelity  ;  but  I  dp 
not  see  any  pretence  for  this  charge  in  the  writinf^ 
of  Aristotle  himself.  For  in  tliem  the  Being  and 
L  2.  g-eneral 


164  or     TIIE    fHILOSOPHY 

genei-al  providence  of  God  arc  more  distinct!}*  as- 
serted than  In  the  vTitinp^s  of  Plato  ;  and  ^hat  is 
pailic:;!arlr  remarkable  is,  that,  whereas  Plato  uses 
the  term   God  and  gods  promiscuously,  the  latter 
never,  I  believe,  occurs  in  any  of  the  works  of  A- 
ristotle,  except  once   in  his  trc.-'.tLc  on  ricl.es  :^nd 
vice:,,  in  which  be  tvidcntly  alludes  to  the  popular 
feligion.     In  all  his  serious  m  riiings  he  U::Cs  the 
t.c\n\  god[Bc^-)  and  never  any  otlier  that  implies 
plurality.     And  }  c  t  ip.  tliis  he  w^s,  not  followed  by 
the  stoic?,  or  any  oth'-r  philosophers.     II  he  was 
an  athcibt,  he  muL>t  r.ct  only  have  concealed,  but 
have  denied,  and  confated,  his  own  opinions  in  ma- 
nv  parts  of  lus  writings,  when  he  had  not  the  least 
occasion  to  do  it,  as  they  ai'e  not  calculated,  as 
t}io:jc  of  Plato  evidently  were,  for  the  generality  of 
readers.     They  ai'e  also  written  in  such  a  manner 
as  not  to  be  at  all  inviting  to  readers  in  general,  in- 
dependently of  the  extreme  abstniseness  of  tlie  sub- 
ject ;  so  dial  they  could  only  ha\  e  been  read  by 
persons  well  versed  in  the  philosophy  of  tlie  times. 
Besides,  it  is  of  more  importance  to  my  object  to 
ascerUiin   what  were  the  opinions  of  tlie   readers, 
than  those  of  the  writers;  and  those  are  most  likc- 
1}'  to  be  found  in  such  of  their  w  orks  as  were  c-al- 
culatcd  for  geneial  use.     To  my  object  die  private 

senti- 


OI-     ARISTOTLE.  165 

sentiments  of  an}'-  particular  man,  and  such  as  he 
did  not  think  proper  to  divulge,  or  explain,  arc  of 
no  consequence  whatever.  I  want  to  ascertain  the 
opinions  of  the  disciples,  and  of  tlie  sect  in  general. 


Section  I. 

Of  the  Being,  the  Attributes^  and  the  Providence, 
of  God. 

The  reader,  I  am  coniident,  will  be  surprised,  as 
well  as  pleased,  with  many  passages  in  the  various 
writings  of  Aristotle,  expressing  his  opinions  con- 
cerning the  nature,  the  attributes,  and  the  provi- 
dence of  God.  "  God,"  he  says,  (De  Mundo. 
cap.  6.)  "  is  the  most  powerful  Being,  immortal, 
*'  and  of  perfect  virtue,  and  though  by  nature  in- 
*'  visible  to  all  perishable  things,  he  is  seen  in  his 
"  works,  as  in  the  air,  in  the  earth,  and  in  the  wa- 
"  ter ,  for  whatever  is  done  in  them  is  the  work  of 
"  God." 

He  expresses  his  approbation  (Met.  Lib.  xii. 
cap.  7.)  of  those  who  say,  that  "  God  is  from  eterni. 
"  ty,  and  die  best  of  Beings,  and  tliat  life,  and  a 
"continuance  of  existence,  is  in  him."  So  fai* 
was  Aristode  from  representing  God  as  of  the  same 

L  3.  rank 


1G6  «F     THE     PIIILOSOrHi' 

rank  and  nature  whh  the  hcavcnlv  bodies,  or  from 
piving  any  portion  of  divinity  to  them,  that  he  says, 
(De.  Miindo.  cap.  6.)  *' Ciod  conducts  the  stais 
•'  according  to  number,-'  tliat  is,  with  regu larit}--, 
"  and  that  on  this  account  he  may  be  called  their 
"  Coryplioeus." 

Aristotle  -was  even  a  professed  advocate  for  the 
unity  oiGod,  and  as  I  have  observed  before,  he  ne- 
ver, in  expressing  his  own  sentiments,  uses  the 
term  gods,  but  always  that  o[  God.  "  There  is," 
he  says,  (De  Mundo.  cap.  7.)  "  but  one  God, 
"  though  he  has  obtained  ma..  •  -^ames,  according 
"  to  his  different  attributes.  By  the  appellations  of 
"  (  Z;;y )  and  (  Aio: )  united  is  signified  that  in 
him  we  live.  He  is  Saturn,  and  Chronos,  as  hav- 
ing existed  from  eternity.  "  He  is  iilso  called  the 
*'  thunderer,  the  gi\er  of  rain,  {kc.  It  can  only  be 
*'  God  that  is  to  be  understood  in  the  Orphic 
*'  hymns.  He  is  also  called  Fate,  from  thing-s  pro- 
*'  ceeding  in  a  connected  series ;  and  Nemesis,  as 
"  possessed  of  a  divine  power,  which  he  exercises 
*'  as  he  pleases;  Adrastias,  as  the  cause  of  every 
"  thing  ill  nature,  which  no  person  can  deceive  or 
"avoid;  and  iiisas,  because  he  exists  always. 
"  What  is  said  of  the  P;ucoc  must  be  explained 
"  in  the  same  manner.     Finally,  God,  holding  the 

"  begin- 


OF     ARISTOTLE.  167 

**  beginning,  the  middle,  and  the  end  of  all  things, 
*'  operates  according  to  nature,  accompanied  by 
*' justice,  called  (  Anir,)t\\e  vindicator  of  the  di- 
"  vine  law  when  it  is  violated.  And  lie  who  would 
"  obtain  a  happy  life  must  be  a  partaker  of  divinity 
"from  the  beginning;"  meaning,  that  he  must 
derive  it  from  God. 

The  pcjpular  opinion  of  a  multiplicity  of  gods, 
Aristotle  explains  in  the  following  manner,  (Met. 
Lib.  xii.  cap.  8.)  "  The  heavens  (ovpxv.'^)  are  one, 
*'  but  it  has  been  handed  down  to  us  by  our  ances- 
"  tors,  and  the  antients,  and  left  in  the  form  of  fi- 
"  gure  to  posterity,  that  these  ^.r^gods,  and  that  e- 
**  very  part  of  nature  has  divinity  in  it.  Other 
"  things  too  of  a  fabulous  nature  are  told  to  the 
*'  multitude,  to  induce  them  to  obey  the  laws.  For 
"  they  say  that  the  gods  are  in  the  form  of  men, 
**  and  of  other  animals,"  &.c. 

Aristotle's  doctrine  concerning  the  providence  of 
God  he  introduces  by  an  account  of  an  old  traditi- 
on, which  he  says  prevailed  among  their  ancestors 
and  all  men,  that  "  CA^ery  thing  was  made  by  God 
"  and  out  of  God."  He  adds,  as  from  the  same 
tradition,  which  is  better  founded,  that  "  nothing 
"  can  be  well  or  safely  conducted,  without  his  care 
^'  and  providence,"  (De  Mundo.  cap.  6.) 

L  4.  His 


1G*8  OF     THE     PHILOSOPHY 

1 1  is  account  of  the  relation  tliat  God  bears  to  the 
■world,  as  its  supreme  j^o\'enior,  is  peculiarly  strik- 
ing ;  considering  the  little  light  "the  heathens  had 
on  this  most  important  subject.  "  WTiat  the  pilot  is 
*'  hi  a  ship,"  he  says,  (De.  Mundo.  cap.  6.)  "  What 
"  tlie  charioteer  is  in  his  chariot,  w  hat  the  prccen- 
*'  tor  is  in  a  chorus,  what  the  laAv  is  in  a  sUite,  or  a 
"  general  in  his  army,  God  is  in  the  world,  ^^'hat 
'•  manifold  labour,  motion,  and  care,  would  diere 
"  be  without  this."  ''  Whereas  widi  him  every 
''  thing  succeeds  without  laboui-,  ^vidiout  ti-ouble, 
"  or  infirmity  of  body.  For,  being  situated  in  a 
"steady  and  immoveable  situation,  every  thing  is 
"  moved  at  his  pleasure,  according  to  the  different 
"  forms  and  natures  of  things.  In  this  he  resem- 
"  bles  the  law  in  a  state,  which,  being  immoveable, 
"  go^ems  eveiy  diing  in  the  state,  all  the  magis- 
^'  trates  having  their  ^oper  place  and  province  un- 
"  der  it.  But  he  is  gi^eatly  superior  to,  and  more 
"  stable  dian,  our  l^^^•s.  For  l>y  him  die  whole 
"world  of  heaven  is  administered  and  governed. 
"  All  animals  obey  his  laws,  and  even  reptiles  that 
"  feed  upon  the  earth." 

It  w  ill  be  seen  in  di<;  following  passiige  diat  Aris- 
totle hv;d  not  the  same,  or  equally  just,  ideas  of  the 
opeiiiLtions  and  pro^•idencc  of  God  that  \\c  are  tiught 

*  in 


V: 


OF    ARISTOTLE.  169 

ill  our  scriptures.  "  God,"  he  says,  (De.  Mundo. 
cap.  6.)  *'  is  the  preserver  of  every  thing  tliat  is 
"  done  in  the  world,  and  also  the  author  of  it,  with. 
<*  out  being  affected  by  \\eariness,  as  a  human 
"  workman,  or  an  animal,  and  of  things  at  a  dis- 
*'  tance,  as  well  as  near.  For  ha^ing  his  scat  in 
"  the  highest  region,  from  which  he  is  called  the 
"  supreme  (TTra]^)  those  bodies  which  are  nearest 
"  to  him  feel  the  most  of  his  power  ;  but  I  cannot 
''  tlijnk  him  concenied  in  things  that  arc  low  and 
"  mean  ;  but  that  rather,  like  the  king  of  Persia, 
*'  he  knows  and  acts  by  his  agents.  Tims  he  moves 
"  the  sun,  and  moon,  and  the  whole  heavens,  and 
"  is  the  author  of  every  thing  that  is  safe  and  sakita- 
*'  ry  in  the  world.  Not  that  he  stands  in  need  of 
"  tlie  assistance  of  others,  as  he  does  every  thing 
"  without  difficulty,  with  a  simple  motion."  (Dt 
Mundo.  cap.  6.) 

I  would  observe  on  this,  that  philosophy,  as  woll 
as  true  piety,  considers  every  tiling  in  the  universe 
as,  in  a  proper  ser^,  equal  in  the  eye  of  God,  who 
made  the  smallest  things  as  wc^l  as  the  greatest,  as 
equally  subservient  to  his  puq^ose.  Moses  repre- 
sents him  as  having'  made  by  tlie  cxi:rtion  of  the 
same  power,  reptiles  as  \\ell  as  men,  the  grass  of 
the  fields  as  v.'cll  as  die  largest  tt:ccs,  and  iill  these 

L  5.  as 


170  OF    THE     PHILOSOPHY 

as  well  as  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars.  "  He  said,  let 
*'  them  be,  and  they  rose  into  existence-"  David 
represents  all  animals,  as  well  as  men,  as  equally 
dependent  upon  God,  even  for  their  daily  food  ; 
when  he  says  the  lions  roar  cuer  their  prey^  and  seek 
their  meat  from  God ;  t/iat  fie  feedeth  the  r aliens , 
^hcn  they  cry^  and  that  all  creatures  haiic  their  lJcs 
tip  unto  him,  and  lie  satisfies  the  desire  of  CDery  liv- 
ing thing.  Agreeably  to  this,  Jesus  says  a  spar- 
row) falls  not  to  the  ground  without  hiin,  and  it  is  he 
that  so  beautifully  clothes  the  lillies  of  the  field. 

So  incomprehensible  has  the  doctrine  of  the  uni- 
versal presence,  and  constant  agency,  of  one  jnind 
been  thought  by  the  generality  of  mankind,  who 
are  apt  to  judge  of  all  intellects  by  tlieir  own,  that 
many  of  the  most  intelligent  and  speculative  of  men 
have  thought  it  necessary  to  provide  him  Mith 
some  assistant,  or  assistants,  in  his  extensive  and 
VcU^ious  operations.  Hence  the  origin  of  idolatry  in 
genenil,  from  its  being  thought  absolutely  impos- 
sible that  one  mind  should  comprehend,  and  at- 
tend to,  e\'ery  thing.  Hence  the  ideas  of  Plato 
were  improved  into  the  notion  of  <7  second  God,  the 
(A',;^/ci',:y3>^)  or  immediate  agent  in  die  work  of  cre- 
ation ;  iind  hence  also  die  christian  logos^  as  a  Bc- 
^ng  separate  from  the  deity,  and  the  still  pre\  ailing 

opinion, 


OF    ARISTO  fs^  17o 

opinion,  that  it  was  not  God  tl 

who  made  the  world,  and  th^ 

Aristotle,  therefore,  must  be  j 

this  idea,  as  he  was  not  singuj 

peared  to  many  others,  as  well 

more  honourable  to  the  Supreii  ^  ^.  ^_^ 

him  not  to  be  immediately  concerned  in  an}'  tWng, 

that  is  low  or  mean. 

EA-en  some  christian  philosophers  seem  still  to  be 
intangledin  this  idea,  when  they  speak  oftlie  opera- 
tion o^ general  lanvs^  as  if  they  could  relieve  the  de- 
ity from  any  part  of  his  immediate  agency.  For 
what  are  laws,  or  general  rules,  in  the  hands  of  those 
who  have  no  power  to  execute  them  ?  Why  should 
a  stone,  for  example,  move  towards  the  earth?  It 
is  said,  by  the  law  of  gravity.  But  Vv^hat  is  that 
law,  or  any  other  law  of  nature,  without  a  power  of 
agency?  There  must,  therefore,  be  an  universal 
agency  of  the  author  of  nature  through  the  whole 
extent  of  his  wj^rks,  the  meanest,  as  they  appear  to 
us,  as  well  as  the  greatest.  And  what  we  call  ge- 
neral laws  cannot  be  any  thing  else  than  his  general 
mode  of  acting,  or  exerting  his  power  and  influ- 
ence. Incomprehensible  as  this  must  ever  appear 
to  us,  it  is  not  the  only  circumstance  relating  to  tho 
Supreme  Being  that  is  so.     In  fact,  all  his  attii- 

butse, 


OF    THE     J'HILOSoi'HY 
1  tO 

outes,  aiid  especially  his  eternal  and  necessary  ex- 
istence must  ever  be  so  to  firjtc  minds,  Que  is,  to 
all  Beings  except  to  liimself. 

There  is  another  work  ascribed  to  Aristotle,  not 
now  extcmt  in  Greek,  Iwt  said  to  ha\  e  been  trans- 
lated from  the  Greek  Into  .Vrabic,  and  then  fi"om  ll:c 
Arabic  into  the  Latin,  in  which  \vc  now  have  it; 
puq:orting  to  contain  the  doctrine  of  the  Egjpti- 
ans  concerning  God  and  nature,  'w  hich  I  have  not 
yet  quoted ;  De  secretiore  parte  dlvinre  sapenti» 
scrundnm  .-^Qiyptios.  (Lib.  11.)  Indeed,  it  ap- 
pears iiii^hly  improbable  that  .Vristolle  should  have 
written  the  whole  of  it,  though  the  minuteness  and 
subtlety  of  the  discussions  contained  in  it  \ery 
much  resemble  his  usual  m<mner  ofuriting. 

Some  of  the  sentiments  in  tliis  work  could  not 
•  have  been  either  tliose  of  Aristotle,  or  of  any  sect  of 
philosophers,  /Eg^-ptian  or  others,  lliat  existed  in 
his  time,  especially  what  he  says  concerning  the 
tuord  of  God.  "  The  express  word  of  God,"  (Lib. 
X.  cap  19.)  "  is  the  cause  of  all  causes,  and  such 
"  was  the  opinion  of  the  Babylonians."  "  Again, 
"  the  true,  word  of  di\i«e  wisdom  (Lib.  k'i\.  cap. 
*'  12.)  is  the  most  powerful  of  all.  W^ho  then  can 
"  comprehend  its  majesty  and  power  ?  It  is  astliat 

''of 


OF    ARISTOTLE.  173 

*'  of  a  prince.  In  this  word  every  thing  is  to  be 
"  seen,  and  from  this  all  power  of  procreation 
*'  flows." 

There  are,  however,  two  passages  in  this  \^•ork, 
whicli,  as  being  sufliciently  agreeable  to  the  senti- 
ments of  Aristotle  quoted  abo^c,  may  deserve  to 
be  recited.  "God,"  he  says  (Lib.  iii.  cap.  3.) 
"  knows  all  things,  past,  present,  and  to  come,  as 
"  their  maker  and  governor,  himself  remaining 
*'  without  motion."  This,  however,  is  not  per- 
fectly agreeable  to  the  sentiments  of  Aristotle,  as 
we  have  seen.  The  next  passage  is  not  consistent 
w  ith  itself,  as  it  represents  the  Divine  Being  as  hav- 
ing produced  every  thing  first  without  any  instru- 
mentality of  other  beings  and  then  with  it. 

"  The  Supreme  Creator  (x\rtif2x)  imitates  no 
*'  created  being,  but  produces  forms  inimitable  by 
"any.  Nor  does  he  make  use  of  any  instrument 
"  in  :his,  but  performs  every  thing  by  Ms  own 
"  power.  God,  therefore,  whose  name  be  exalt- 
"  ed,  produced  the  universe  without  any  consulta- 
"  tion,  or  wandering  of  thought.  He  first  produc- 
"  ed  an  only  substance,  ^•iz.  the  acting  intellect, 
"  which  he  adorned  with  light  most  bright,  and 
"  most  excellent  of  all  created  tilings,  and  by  diis 
"  intermediate  Being  the  highest  orb  \tas  produced, 

"  which 


174  OF     THE     PHILOSOPHY 

*'  which  contains  intelligence  and  souls.  By  tlvc 
"  siimc  are  changes  made  in  the  lower  world." 
(Lib.  xiv.  cap.  15.)  The  clause,  ivhose  name  be 
praised,  introduced  after  the  mention  of  that  of 
Godj  is  evidently  not  heathen,  but  the  language  of 
a  Jew,  or  a  Mahometan. 

Notwithstimding  the  justness  of  Aristotle's  sen- 
timents in  general,  concerning  the  being,  and  espe- 
cially of  the  providence,  of  God,  he  was  so  entang- 
led by  his  metaphysical  maxims,  that  he  did  not 
make  him  i\\c  first  7noi;er  in  the  universe  ;  but  as- 
signed this  province,  seemingly  the  most  important 
of  all,  to  something  independent  of  him;  but  to 
this  first  mover  he  never  attributes  any  proper  in- 
teUip;cncc.  *'  The  first  mover,"  he  says,  (Phys. 
Lib.  viii.  cap.  10.)  "  itself  simple,  and  immovea- 
"  ble,  but  moving  other  bodies  in  infinite  time,  has 
*'  neither  parts  nor  magnitude  ;  since  nothing  finite 
"  can  have  moved  in  infinite  time,  and  magnitude 
*'  cannot  be  infinite."  To  support  this,  he  main- 
tains at  large  (De  Anima.  Lib.  i.  cap.  3.)  that  it  is 
not  necessary-  that  that  ^vhich  is  the  mover  should 
itself  have  any  motion.  "  By  a  simple  nod  of  the 
*'  first  mover,"  he  says  (De  Coelo.  Lib.  i.  cap.  2.) 
"  all  compound  substances  are  moved,  being  tlieir 

"  superior  and  master." 

But 


Of    ARISTOTLE.  175 

But  it  is  surely  difficult  to  form  any  idea  of  a  be- 
ing, or  substance,  at  the  same  time  widiout  magni- 
tude, and  without  motion,  and  also  without  intelli- 
gence, whatever  he  meant  by  the  nod  abovementi- 
oned ;  for  this  he  gives  exclusi\'ely  to  God,  who, 
according  to  him,  was  active  from  all  cternit}-.  Bet 
ing,  however,  satisfied  that  something  must  ha\e 
existed  from  etemit}%  and  that  whatever  was  moved 
must  have  had  boih  a  mover,  and  a  beginning  of 
motion,  he  was  necessarily  led  to  think  tliat  the  first 
Being  must  have  been  immoveable ;  and  as  he 
must  have  been  fi*om  eternit}^,  he  must,  according 
to  the  other  of  his  metaphysical  maxim^s,  have  been 
without  magnitude,  which  he  says  is  necessarih^  fi- 
nite. But  these  were  only  metaphysical  and  vague 
notions,  which  do  not  appear  to  have  materially  af- 
fected his  general  ideas  concerning  the  being  of 
God,  his  attiibutes,  or  his  providence,  on  which  he 
enlarges  greatly,  and  seemingly  with  much  satis- 
faction. 


Section 


]76  OF    TIfE     rillLOSOPHY 


Section  Ilr 
Of  the  human  Svul. 

Though  Aristotle  writes  very  largely  concerning 
the  soul,  and,  according  to  his  custom,  proposes 
and  answers  a  variety  of  subtle  questions  relating  to 
it,  his  sentiments  on  the  subject  are  by  no  means  e- 
vidcht,  except  that  diey  are  difllrent  from  those  of 
Plato,  who  preceded  him,  and  those  of  the  Stoics 
"who  came  after  him.  Indeed,  on  all  subjects  he 
seems  to  ha\'e  taken  pleasure  in  differing  from  all 
others,  and  appearing  as  the  author  of  a  system  of 
his  own. 

Though  Aristotle  did  not,  witli  many  other  phi- 
losophers, consider  the  soul  as  the  whole  of  ^  mnn's 
selfhft  acknowledged  it  to  be  the  principal  part  of  a 
man.  {upyj,)  "  It  is  so,"  he  says  (De  Anima. 
Lib.  i.  cap,  1.)  "of  all  animals.  The  intellect 
*'  (lb.  Lii).  iii.cap.  4.)  is  immiscible  with  the  body, 
"  but  the  latter  has  its  senses,  as  the  instruments  of 
it,"  He  did  not  think  so  meanly  of  the  body  as  not 
to  be  of  opinion  that  it  had  some  properties  in  com- 
mon 


OF     ARISTOTLE.  175 

mon  with  the  soul.  "  The  soul,"  he  says  (De 
Anima.  Lib.  i.  cap.  1.)  "  has  all  its  affection  in 
**  common  with  the  bod}',  as  anger,  gentleness, 
*'  compassion,  confidence,  joy,  hatred,  and  lastly 
"  love ;  because  in  all  these  cases  the  body  suffers 
"  as  well  as  the  mind." 

The  motion  of  the  iuLellcct  is  aluaysj^-zi^/ to  con- 
sist in  thinkings  so  that  when  this  operation  ceases 
the  soul  ceases  to  exist.  He,  therefore  sa^-s, 
(i^gypt.  Lib.  viii.  cap.  4.)  "the  intellect  is  al- 
"  ways  in  motion,  and  an  equable  one." 

According  to  a  metaphysical  distinction  of  Aris- 
totle, and  I  believe  peculiar  to  him,  every  substance 
consists  o^  matter  und/bn?!.  "  What  then,"  says 
he  "  is  the  essence  of  the  soul"  (iEgypt.  Lib.  xii. 
cap.  13.)  "  If  it  is  said  to  he  form,  it  is  said  wisely 
"  and  rationally,  being  part  of  the  compound,  and 
"  not  the  whole."  These  two  last  quotations  are 
from  that  work  of  Aristode  \\'hich  I  have  observed 
to  be  of  doubtful  authority.  I  find,  howc\er,  a 
better  (though  the  account  is  not  so  clear)  in  hia 
(De  Anima.  Lib.  iii.  cap.  4.)  where  he  says, 
"  They  think  jusdy  who  are  of  opinion  that  the 
*'  soul  is  to  be  classed  v.ith  forms.  It  is  not,  howe- 
"  ver,  wholly  place,  but  intellectual,  nor  does  it  con- 
**  sist  in  act  J  but  in  the  pozvcr  of  the  forms. ' '    This 

M.  Ust 


176  or   THE   PHiLosoriiv 

last  expression  is  lo  me  wliolly  unintellit^iblc. 
But  the  opinion  that  tlie  soul  is  the  form  of  the  bo- 
dy, whatever  was  reuiiy  meant  f)y  it,  was  the  eom- 
mon  luns^uage  first  of  the  christian  Aristotelians, 
and  tlicn  of  unbelievers,  on  the  revival  of  the  Aris- 
totelian philosoj)hy  in  the  West.  It  was  condemn- 
ed at  die  twelfth  council  of  Lateran. 

Like  all  other  philosoi)hers,  Aristotle  considered 
the  soul  as  consisting  of  difterent  parts, each  ha\ing 
its  peculiar  functions.  "  Nodiing,"  he  says  (Dc 
Anlma.  Lil).  ii.  cap.  2.)  "is  verv^  clear  concerning 
"  the  intellectual  ch-  contemplative  part  of  the  soul ; 
^'  but  it  seems  to  be  another  kind  of  soul,  and  that 
"  ihis  is  separable"  (meaning  from  its  other  facul- 
ties) "  immortal,  and  incorruptible.  The  soul" 
he  says,"  is  divisible  (Mag.  Mor.  Lib.  i.  cap.  5.) 
"  into  two  parts,  that  which  has  reason,  and  that 
"  wliich  is  M ithout  reason,  (which  he  must  have 
"  learned  from  the  Pythagoreans.)  In  the  part  which 
"  has  reason,  are  die  virtues  of  prudence,  wisdom, 
"  genius,  memory,  &.c.  but  in  the  part  which  has  not 
"  rcasop,  temperance,  fortitude,,  justice,  andwhat- 
"  ever  else  is  praise  wordiy  in  the  class  of  \'irtues  ; 
"  sinceonnccountof  these  we  aie  deemed  worthy  of 
"  praise."  Here  he  gives  to  a  part  of  the  soul  the 
same  pro^^rties  that  odier  philosoplicrs  more  gene- 

mllv 


OF     ARISTOTLE.  177 

rally  give  to  the  animal  part  of  man,  of  which,  how- 
ever, he  makes  no  distinct  mention,  though  he  docs 
of  another  part,  which  he  calls  vegetative ^  not  ac- 
knowledged by  any  others;  who  in  their  defiinitions 
of  man  never  descend  lower  tlian  the  principle  of 
animal  nature.  "A  part  of  the  soul,''  he  says 
(De  Anima.  Lib.  ii.  cap.  2.)  "  we  call  vegative, 
*'  of  which  plants  partake,  for  the  soul  is  (ao%>/) 
**  the  principle  of  all  vegetative,  sensation  intellect 
*'  and  motion." 

What  Aristotle  is  represented  as  savino-  in  the 
doubtful  treatise  mentioned  before,  fa\'ours  the 
idea  which  prevailed  at  the  revival  of  his  philosophy, 
of  a  common  princ'ipk  0/  life  and  motion^  tho'  not  di- 
rectly, of  intelligence^  pervading  all  nature,  and  re- 
solvable into  its  source  at  the  death  of  each  indivi- 
dual. "Plants  and  animals,"  he  says  (/Egypt. 
Lib.  viii.  cap.  2.)  *'  besides  that  soul  which  is  pe- 
"  culiar  to  each,  enjoy  the  life  of  the  common  soul ; 
*'  because  they  cannot  gi\e  aliment  to  others  witli- 
**  out  paiting  with  their  own  lives.  The  first  au- 
"  thor  of  form,"  he  says  (lb.)  "  gave  reason  to  the 
"  common  soul."  He  even  says  that  this  is  the 
principle  of  life  ^  though  he  does  not  call  it  a  soul. 
It  is  in  all  the  elements,  "  in  fire,  air,  and  water." 
Here  however  he  allow  s  a  separate  individual  soul 
M  2.  to 


178  or    THE   piiii.osopiir 

to  each,  bcbldcs  a  piirticipalion  in  the   common 
soul. 

The  docti-'rnc  of  tlic  fnc- existence  of  souls  and  of 
their  descent  into  mortal  bodies,  I  do  not  find  men- 
tioned in  any  of  the  genuine  writings  of  Aristotle  ; 
but  it  is  mentioned  in  the  doubtful  treatise  quoted 
above,  in  the  exordium  to  which  he  says  (/Eg}pt. 
Lib.  i.  cap.  1.)  *'  Wc  shall  then  describe  the  de- 
"  scent  of  souls  into  bodies,  and  their  ascent." 
But  I  do  not  fuid  that  he  does  this  in  any  part  of 
this  treatise. 

Concerning  the  state  of  the  soul,  or  of  die  man, 
after  death,  Aristotle  is  nearly  silent ;  and  what  he 
docs  say,  or  rather  hint,  is  expressive  of  much 
doubt.  "  If  any  thing,"  he  says  (De  Moribus. 
Lib.  i.  cap.  IL)  "  be  enjoyed  by  the  dead,  AvheUicr 
*'  srood  or  ca  il,  it  must  be  very  little,  either  in  it- 
■^^  self,  or  to  them;  not  suflicicntto  make  them 
"  happy  or  unhappy,  who  were  not  so  before." 
This  w  ith  respect  to  the  souls,  or  the  shades,  of 
the  virtuous,  is  pretty  nearly  the  sentiment  which 
Homer  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Achilles  in  the  Ely- 
sian  fields ;  ^^  ho  says,  he  had  rather  be  a  slave  to 
the  meanest  person  upon  earth,  than  king  of  all  in 
the  regions  below. 

Section" 


OF     ARISTOTLE.  173 

Section   III. 
Of  Happiness^  and  of  Virtue  and  Vice. 

Aristotle's  ideas  of  happiness,  and  of  things  that 
should  be  classed  among  goods  or  ciiih^  are  very 
different  from  those  of  the  Stoics  who  came  after 
him,  and,  as  may  be  inferred  from  what  he  says, 
those  of  many  who  preceded  him;  but  they  are 
far  more  agreeable  to  reason  and  die  common  sense 
of  mankind- 

In  consequence  of  his  making  more  account  of 
the  body  dian  other  philosopers  of  his  time  did,  lie 
justly  observes  (De  Moribus.  Lib.  i.  cap  4.)  that 
'^'  if  good  be  one^  which  he  sa}*s  is  the  common  opi- 
"  nion,  or  a  thing  separate  from  c\Try  other,  and  in- 
"  dependent  of  every  other,  it  cannot  be  procured 
'■'■  by  man,  or  depend  upon  any  actions  of  his. 
*'  Some  kinds  of  good,"  he  says,  (Mag.  Mor.  Lib. 
i.  cap.  3.)  *'  relate  to  the  soul,  and  the  \irtues,  and 
*'  some  to  the  body,  as  health,  beautv,  and  other  ex- 
"  ternal  things,  opulence,  &c.  It  is  agreed  by 
*'  all,"  he  says,  (Eudem.  Lib.  vi.  cap.  13.)  "  that 
"  grief  (Autt;?)  is  an  evil,  and  to  be  avoided.  For 
"  whatever  is  to  be  a\'oided  is  an  evil,  and  ^vhate\'cr 
M3.  "is 


180  OF     THE     I'HILOSOPHY 

"  is  to  be  pursued  is  a  good.  It  is  not  easy"  he 
fiirtlier  says,  "  for  him  to  be  completely  happy,  who 
*'  is  either  remarkably  deformed,  or  of  mean  condi- 
"  tion,  or  \'.  ho  lives  a  solitary  life,  or  is  without 
"  children  ;  and  much  less  if  he  have  clUldren  that 
"  are  very  profligate.  Some,  therefore,  place  hap- 
*'  piness  in  outward  prosperity,  and  some  in  virtue. 
"  He,  therefore,  must  be  pronounced  happy,  who 
*'  is  both  virtuous,  and  possessed  of  external 
"  goods."  (De  Moribus.  Lib.  i.  cap.  9  and  cap. 
il.)  In  this  opinion  he  would  now,  I  believe, 
have  the  general  concurrence  of  mankind. 

On  the  subject  o^  virtues  and  vices,  the  ideas  of 
Aristotle  are  peculiar  to  himself,  but  he  was  cer- 
tainly at  liberty  to  make  his  o^^Tl  definitions,  tliough 
this  may  lead  to  mistake  when  they  are  different 
from  those  that  are  commonly  received. 

NoAv  virtue  is,  I  believe,  universally  considered 
.ns  the  property  of  the  soul,  independent  of  any  thing 
relating  to  the  body,  and  only  on  the  will  and  inten- 
tion, arising  from  the  inward  disposition  of  tiic 
mind.  But  it  is  not  so  \;  ith  Aristotle.  He  consi- 
ders every  circumstance  that  is  reputable,  and  that 
makes  a  man  appear  to  ad\antage  in  the  eyes  of 
others,  as  a  virtue,  (api/j;)  and  e\ery  thing  that  is 
disreputable,  as  a  vice.     His  general  definition  (Dc 

\'irlutibus.) 


OF     ARISTOTLE.  181 

Vlrtutibas.)  is  that  whatever  is  commendable  is 
virtuous,  and  vice  tl\e  contrar3\ 

Thus,  under  the  head  of  liberality,  besides  what 
we  call  generosity,  he  includes  "  neatness  in  dress, 
"  elegance  in  a  house,'"'  and  this,  he  says,  "  with- 
*'  out  any  regard  to  utility.  He  also  is  to  be  classed 
"  amongthe  liberal  who  keeps  animals  forpleasurCj 
"  or  for  the  sake  of  being  admired." 

After  mentioning  Plato's  division  of  the  soul  in- 
to three  parts,  he  assigns  the  virtues  peculiar  to 
each  of  them.  *'  Of  the  ?'atwnal  part  of  man,"  he 
says,  "  the  virtue  is  prudence,  of  the  animal 
**  {Bvfx.osi'^cva-}  the  virtues  are  gentleness,  and  forti- 
"  tude ;  of  the  concupiscible  part,  {sTn^^y^.y.ov) 
*'  the  virtues  of  temperance  and  continence  ;  and 
"  those  of  the  whole  soul  are  justice,  liberalitv,and 
'^  magnanimity."  (De  Virtu tibus  et  Vitiis.)  I  do 
not,  however,  find  the  abo^  e  mentioned  division 
of  the  faculties  of  the  soul  in  the  works  of  Plato. 

Aristotle's  ideas  of  justice  were  much  more  ex- 
tensive than  those  of  most  other  philosophers,  or 
perhaps  those  of  statesmen.  "  The  first  justice," 
he  says)  (De  Virtu  tibus)  respects  the  gods  ;  the 
*^  next  the  demons ;  then  those  relating  to  our  coun- 
"  try  and  our  parents,  and  the  last  the  dead,  in 
M  4.  "  which 


182  OF     THE     PHILOSOPHY 

"  V.  lilch  is  included  piety,  ^\hich  is  either  a  part  of 
"justice  or  Ibllows  it." 

This  is  the  only  passage  in  the  works  of  Aristotle 
in  \\l,l(h  mention  is  made  of  gods^  and  here  he 
evidently  means  such  gods  as  were  ackno\\Iedg- 
ed  L)  his  countiy.  However,  the  neglect  or  con- 
tempt of  these  rites  of  worship,  whatever  they  were, 
he  Mould  hiue  punished.  "It  is  injustice,"  he 
adds,  (lb.)  "to  violate  the  custom  and  institution 
"  vA  our  eountiy,  and  not  to  obey  the  laws  and  the 
"  magistrates."  'J'his  includes  the  principle  of 
persecution  for  religious  opinions  and  practices, 
which  Aristotle,  no  doubt,  held,  in  common  with 
all  the  pliilosophers  and  magistrates  of  his  time,  so 
that  notiiing  better  cotild  reasonably  be  expected  of 
him. 

Thus  we  have  seen  the  result  of  the  speculation, 
and  laborious  researches,  of  the  most  acute  and  sa- 
gacious of  all  die  Grecian  philosophers,  of  a  man 
who,  with  respect  both  to  genius  and  industr}-,  may 
be  classed  among  the  first  of  mankind,  on  these  most 
important  subjects.  Rut  notw  iihstanding  maiks of 
superior  good  sense,  and  discernment,  in  the  writ- 
ings of  Aristotle,  we  do  not  find  in  them  any  real 
advance  in  theological  or  moral  science.  And  as 
to  any /;/Y7C/ic<;///^^  of  his  doctrines,  it  appears  to  be 

something 


OF    ARISTOTLE. 


183 


something  less  than  the  world  was  in  possession  of 
before. 

As  to  the  great  object  of  heathen  philosophy  in 
o-eneral,  which  was  to  enable  men  to  bear  tiie  e\ils 
of  life,  and  the  fear  or  the  pains  of  death,  he  never, 
tliat  I  recollect,  so  much  as  mentions  the  subject; 
but  treats  of  generation  and  dissolution  merely  as 
natural  phenomena,  to  be  explained  upon  physical 
principles,  but  he  never  regards  them  in  a  moral 
light.  On  tlie  consequence  of  death,  and  a  state 
of  retribution  after  it,  he  is  likewise  \\  holly  silent ; 
probably  from  not  believing  any  thing  either  of  the 
notions  of  the  vulgar,  or  the  refined  speculations  of 
Plato.  Had  the  subjects  been  much  upon  his 
mind,  he  must  have  treated  of  them,  and  \^iih  seri- 
ousness, as  in  themselves  highly  interesting  to  him- 
self; as  well  as  to  the  rest  of  mankind. 

What  is  peculiarly  remarkable  in  Aristotle,  is 
tliat  though  he  reasons  much,  and  disputes  with 
wonderful  subtlety,  he  seems  to  have  fch  nothing. 
He  never  expresses  himself  with  any  warmth,  or 
any  degree  of  sensibility,  when  he  is  treating  of  th.c 
most  important  subjects  ;  but  writes  concerning 
God,  and  the  soul,  and  of  ^'irtue  and  vice,  with  as 
much  coolness  as  he  describes  his  plants  and  ani- 
mals. How  different,  in  this  respect,  as  well  as  m 
M  5.  rnunv 


184  OF   THE    riiii.O'^orn V 

many  otliers,  arc  the  vritin!:^  of  Aristotle  from  the 
Psahns  of  David,  the  writings  of  the  prophets,  and 
other  devotional  and  moral  aiticlc^  in  the  books  of 
scripture,  penned  by  men  of  no  uncommon  ability 
of  any  kir.d,  but  deeply  impressed  with  the  impor- 
tance of  the  subjects  on  which  they  write,  and  hav- 
ing more  knowledge  of  them.  They  know  infi- 
nite! v  more  of  God,  and  of  his  constimt  attention  to 
the  affairs  of  men,  individuals  as  well  as  nations,  and 
therefore  they  write  as  if  they  were  really  sensible 
ofhis  presence  with  them,  and  his  unremitted  at- 
tention to  them,  as  the  proper  author  of  all  the 
good  and  evil  that  fell  to  their  lot.  They  regarded 
him  not  only  as  their  moral  governor,  and  final 
judg(\  but  as  their  father,  and  their  friend;  and 
thence  were  led  to  address  themselves  to  him  on 
all  interesting  occasions. 

What  is  there,  in  this  respect,  in  all  the  heathen 
Amtings  to  compare  with  tlie  language  of  the 
Psalnis  ?  To  quote  a  few  vei'scs  out  of  thousands, 
I  shall  just  transcribe  the  beginning  of  the  116th. 
Psalm.  /  loi:e  the  Lord  because  he  /tos  lieavd  my 
Toice,  and  tny  suppl'i cations.  Because  he  has  inclin- 
ed his  ear  unto  fiie,  therefore  will  I  call  upon  him  as 
long  as  I  five.  7  he  sorrows  of  death  compassed  nu\  and 
the  pains  of  hell  got  /i/)ld  upon  mc.     I  found  troubk 

and 


or    ARISTOTLE.  185 

and  sorroiVj   then  called  I  upon  the  name  of  the 
Lord,  0  Lord  I  he  seech  thee,  dclhcr  my  soul.  fcrV. 

I  am  tempted  to  add  the  begimiing  of  the  139th 
Psalm.     0  Lord  thou  hast  searched  me  and  hiovjn 
Trie.     Thou  knoivest  my  down  sitting  and  my  upris- 
ing.      Thou  iinderstandest  my   thoughts  afar  off. 
Thou  compassest  my  path,  and  my  lying  doivn,  and 
art  acquainted  with  all  my  ways.     'For  there  is  not 
a  word  in  my  tongue,  but  lo,  0  Lord,  thou  know  est 
it  altogether.     Thou  hast  beset  me  behind  and  be- 
fore, and  laid  thine  hand  upon  me.     Such  knowledge 
is  too  wonderful  for  me.     It  is  high,  I  cawiot  at- 
tain unto  it. 

This  is  language  that  comes  from  the  lie  art  ^  im- 
plying a  feeling  sense  of  the  intimate  ];)resence,  and 
constant  inspection,  of  God,  naturally  producing  a 
direct  address  to  him,  which  does  not  ajjpcar  ever  to 
hvive  been  made  by  any  of  the  philosophers.  Their 
feelings,  therefore,  must  have  been  vcr}'^  diftcrent.* 
Supposing  them  to  ha\e  been  the  same  in  kind, 
diey  must  have  been  unspeakably  different  in  de- 
gree. Their  acknowledgment  of  the  universal 
presence  of  God  must  have  been  mere  speculation, 
and  rested,  as  we  say,  in  head,  but  ne\er  reached 
the  hearf.  But  this  strikes  us  in  every  psahn  of 
David.  O  F 


186 

OF    THE 

STOICAL  PHILOSOPHY  OF 
MARCUS    ANTONINUS 

AND 

E  P  I  C  T  E  T  U  S. 


i  PIE  Stoic  philosophy  the  founder  of  which  was 
Zcno,  \\  ho  flourished  about  three  hundred  ycai-s  be- 
fore Christ,  and  a  litdc  after  Arisrotle,  ai-ose  a  con- 
sidcrahle  time  after  Socrates,  and  it  is  on  se^  eral 
accounts  the  most  respectable  of  all  the  heathen 
systems,  especially  as  it  regai  ds  the  being  and  pro- 
vidence of  God,  and  the  submission  we  owe  to  it, 
patience  in  adversity,  and  resignation  to  death.  It 
was  soon  opposed  by  the  doctrine  of  Epicurus, 
vhich  m^dc  pkasurc,  though  not  sensual  pleasure, 
but  rather  the  enjoyment  of  life  in  general,  the  great 
ebject  and  end  of  human  life,  whereas,  according 
to  the  Stoics,  pleasure  of  e\  cry  kind,  as  well  as 
pain,  is  to  be  ranked  among  Uiings  'mdiffercnt,  and 
not  to  be  attended  to  in  the  great  rule  of  life. 

AVhen  the  Grecian  philosophy   was  introduced 

into  Rome,  some  of  tlie  most  virtuous  and  respec- 
table characters  embraced  that  of  the  Stoic?,  in  pre- 
ference 


OF    THE    rHILOSOPHY,  &c.  187 

ference  to  any  other ;  especially  Cato,  and  in  a  later 
period  the  emperor  Marcus  Antoninus,  who  vnade 
\\  hat  he  deemed  to  be  virtue,  and  ^^•hatevcr  he 
thought  to  be  subservient  to  the  good  of  his  coun- 
try, more  an  object  than  any  other  of  the  emperors, 
or  almost  any  other  heathen  that  we  read  of.  It 
will,  tlierefore,  be  well  worth  while  to  examine  the 
fundamental  principles  of  this  philosophy  ;  as  this 
alone  can  come  in  any  competition  \\\\\\  the  christi- 
an. And  as  the  fairest  specimen  of  it  may  be  seen 
in  the  writings  of  Marcus  Antoninus,  and  Epicte- 
tus,  I  shall,  in  this  place,  confine  myself  to  the  exa- 
mination of  their  works,  in  which  we  may  be  sure 
to  find  the  genuine  principles  of  it  without  any  dan- 
ger of  mistake.  Seneca  indeed,  and  Arrian  came 
before  Marcus  Antoninus,  and  their  principles 
were  those  of  the  Stoics.  But  there  is  too  much 
of  rhetoric  in  their  compositions,  especially  those 
of  Seneca,  whereas  the  writings  of  the  emperor 
came,  no  doubt,  from  the  heart,  and  express  nei- 
ther more  nor  less  than  he  reallv  thoup'ht.     How- 

o 

ever,  I  shall  subjoin  to  this  section  an  account  of 
the  sentiments  of  Seneca  and  Arrian. 


Section 


183  ar    tjie    rHiLosoPKy 


Section  I. 

Of  God  mid  Providence. 

It  was  a  fixed  maxim  w  ith  the  Stoics,  as  it  wvca 
w  itli  Socrates,  from  \\hom  none  of  the  founders  of 
sects  that  came  after  him  pretended  to  differ,  tliat 
there  is  a  principle  of  intelligence,  wisdom  and  also 
of  benevolence,  directing  all  the  affairs  of  the  world 
and  of  men,  though  they  do  not  ascribe  proper  cre- 
ation to  it.  Sometimes  they  even  speak  of  it  in  the 
singular  number,  though  more  generally  in  the 
plural;  believing  that,  though  the  principle  of  in- 
telligence was  one,  it  w as  distributed  to  several  in- 
dniduals,  and  indeed  to  men,  and  all  other  intelli- 
gent agents. 

But  none  of  the  philosophers  adopted  the  popu- 
lar ideas  of  the  gods  of  their  countr}-.  7'hough 
thev  sometimes  make  use  of  the  same  navies,  (and 
this  is  not  frequent)  they  had  a  very  different  idea 
of  their  characters.  In  their  writings  we  find  no- 
thing of  the  lewdness,  the  cruelty,  and  caprice  of 
the  gods  of  Homer  and  Virgil ;  nor  do  they  e^•cr 
make  any  apology  for  rejecting  die  notions  of  tlic 
common  people.  This 


OF    THE     STOICS.  189 

This  unity  of  principle  in  all  the  orders  of  intel- 
ligent beings  would,  in  the  opinion  of  the  philoso- 
phers, secure  the  unity  of  design  in  the  whole  sys- 
tem that  was  subordinate  to  them,  and  governed 
by  them.  "  There  is,"  says  Marcus  Antoninus 
(Lib.  vii.  sect.  9.)  "  one  world,  one  god  in  ail 
*'  things,  one  matter,  and  one  law.  Consequently, 
"  reason  in  all  intelligent  beings  is  the  same  \\\ 
"  all,  and  truth  also  is  one." 

He  makes  use,  though  only  once,  of  the  name  of 
Jupiter  as  that  of  the  Supreme  Being,  when  he 
Tspeaks  of  the  principle  of  intelligence  in  all  men  as 
derived  from  one  source.  "  We  should  live,"  he 
says,  (Lib.  v.  sect.  7.)  "  v/ith  the  gods;  and  this 
*'  any  person  \\\\\  do  who  preserves  his  mind  in  a 
"  disposition  to  acquiesce  in  what  is  appointed 
"  him,  and  who  acts  according  to  that  genius, 
*'  which  Jupiter,  having  detached  it  from  himself, 
**  gives  to  every  person  to  be  his  future  guide  and 
"  commander,  which  is  every  person's  mind,  or 
"  reason."  He  evidently  considered  the  sun  as  a 
portion  of  the  universal  deity,  when  he  says,  (Lib. 
viii.  sect.  19.)  "  the  sun,  and  the  other  gods,  exist 
"  for  some  purpose  or  other." 

That  this  universal  mind  has  a  perfect  know- 
ledge  of  all  things,  even  of  what  passes  in  the  minds 

of 


190  OP    THE     fHlLOSOPHY 

men,  was  the  belief  of  the  Stoics,  as  well  as  of  So- 
crates. "  God,"  says  Marcus  Antoninus,  (Lib. 
xii.  sect.  2.)  "  sees  all  minds  divested  of  their  co- 
'*  vcrings  and  flesh.  By  his  own  mind  alone  he 
"  sees  them  as  derived  from  him.  If  you  will  do 
"  the  same,  you  will  be  freed  from  much  trouble.'* 
For  believing  that  all  minds  are  only  parts  of  one 
whole,  he  ascribes  to  diem  all  much  of  the  same 
power,  as  we  shall  see  more  particularly  hereaf- 
ter. 

He, howc\cr,  takes  it  for  granted  that  all  good 
and  evil  is  the  dispensation  of  the  gods,  and  there- 
fore he  holds  it  as  a  fixed  maxim  to  be  th:mkful  for 
the  former,  and  patiently  to  bear  the  latter.  "  I 
''thank  God,"  he  says,  (Lib.  i.  sect.  17.j  "for 
**  good  grandfathers,  good  parents,  good  precep- 
"  tors,  good  acquaintimce,  domestics,  and  friends, 
•*  and  for  good  of  every  other  kind.  If,"  siiys  he 
(Lib.  vi.  sect.  44.)  "  the  gods  take  no  care  of  the 
**  world,  which  it  is  impiety  to  believe,  why  do  we 
•*  sacrifice,  pray,  take  oaths,  and  do  other  things 
*'  which  suppose  the  gods  to  be  present  witJi  us. 
**  and  attentive  to  us?" 

The  heathens  in  g-encral,  without  excepting  any 
of  the  philosoj^hcrs,  except  Epicurus,  were   dis- 
posed 


OF    THE     STOICS.  191 

posed  to  believe  that  the  gods  interposed  in  tlic  af- 
fairs of  man,  giving  him  admonitions,  and  sugges- 
tions by  drearrrs,  omens,  oracles,  and  various  other 
ways.  "  With  respect  to  the  gods,"  say  Marcus 
Antoninus  (Lib.  i.  sect.  17.)  "  their  suggestions, 
*'  and  the  aids,  and  inspirations  that  come  from 
"  them,  nothing  hinders  my  living  according  to  the 
**  rule  of  nature,  unless  it  be  my  fault,  in  not  ob- 
"  serving  those  hints  from  the  gods,  which  are 
*'  sometimes  obscure." 

He  seems  sometimes,  however,  to  consider  such 
an  order  of  tilings  established  from  all  eternity  as 
would  render  ail  prayer,  sacrifices,  8;c.  useless. 
^'  Whatever  happens  to  you,"  he  sa}'s,  (Lib.  x. 
sect.  5.)  "  was  destined  for  you  from  all  eternity. 
*'  This"  he  says,  ''  v.as  done,  (Lib.  iv.  sect.  26.) 
**  by  a  certain  fate."  And  again,  "  the  series  of 
"  causes  combined  with  one  another,  connects 
**  your  existence  with  that  c^ent  from  all  eternity." 
This,  however,  is  the  belief  of  Jews  and  Christians, 
and  according  to  their  ideas  is  not  incompaiib-le 
with  prayer.  But  it  is  doubtful  whether  Marcus 
Antoninus  entered  into  the  proper  principle  of  this, 
so  as  to  make  prayer  perfectly  compatible  v\  ith  his 
idea  of  fate.  It  does  not  appear  that  tlie  Stoics  in 
general,  any  more  than  other  heathen  philosophers, 


1^j2  of   the   phii.osophv 

liud  their  minds  exercised  in  prayer,  habitiiul  and 
occasional,  in  die  manner  of|)ious  Jews  aiid  Chris- 
tians. Wc  shonlel  oUieruisc  have  had  more  of 
iheir  devotional  compositions,  similar  to  those  ot 
tlie  psalms  of  David,  and  other  forms  of  prayer  that 
occur  in  the  hooks  of  scripture.  The  difl'ere^ce 
between  die  heatliens  and  the  believers  in  revelati- 
on in  this  respect  is  so  striking  as  I  observed  before, 
as  proves  a  veay  different  state  of  mind  with  respect 
to  a  God  and  provielencc,  whatever  may  be  inferred 
to  the  contrary  from  occasionid  expressions  in  their 
writings. 

That  every  thing  diat  was  appointed  and  direct- 
ed by  the  Supreme  Being  is  right,  Marcus  Antoni- 
nus  never  doubted.  *'  If  there  be  a  God,"  he  says, 
(Lib.  ix.  sect.  29.)  **  every  thing  is  right."  Ac- 
cording to  him,  diis  made  the  existence  of  any 
thing  properly  evi/  absolutely  impossible.  *'  No- 
"  thing,'"  he  savs,  (Lib  x.  sect.  6.)  "  can  be  hurt- 
*'  ful  diat  is  good  for  the  \\hole;  and  eveiT  thing^ 
''  in  the  universe  nuist  be  good  for  //.  This  is 
**  common  to  the  nature  of  every  thing,  and  the 
"world  must  have  it  in  the  greatest  degree,  be- 
"  cause  tliere  is  nothing  external  to  itself  to  force 
"  any  thing  noxious  upon  it."  This  considerati- 
on is  with  us  also  an  argument  for  the  unchangea- 
ble 


OF  t:!e   stoics.  193 

ble  goodness,  and  other  attributes,  of  God,  tliv.  evi- 
dence of  which  we  see  in  the  works  of  nature.  We 
say  that,  since  there  are  evident  marks  of  bcncvo- 
Icnce  ill  what  wc  experience  and  see  around  us,  a 
principle  of  nialeiiolence ^  which  is  opposite  to  it, 
cannot  be  admitted.  E>'ery  thing,  therefore,  must 
have  been  designed  for  the  best,  A\hether  at  present 
we  can  see  it  to  be  so  or  not.  And  as  there  is  no- 
thing in  nature  superior  to  this  bcncvolcnit  su- 
preme intelHgence,  this  system,  tendin.g  iu  all  re- 
spects to  good,  must  be  perpetual. 

That  this  system  is  in  a  progressive  state  of  con- 
tinual improvement  was  not  the  doctrine  of  the 
Stoics.  It  was  rather  their  opinion  that,  after  a 
certain  period,  every  tiling  would  return  to  the 
state  in  which  it  had  been  before  ;  so  that  nothing 
would  be  gained  by  their  perpetual  revolu lions. 
In  this  their  system  coincided  with  that  of  the 
Hindoos,  and  tlie  oriental  philosophers.  This 
seems  to  be  intimated  by  Marcus  Antoninus. 
"  We  should  bear  in  mind,"  he  says,  (Lib.  ii. 
sect.  14.)  "  two  things,  one  that  all  things  have 
"  been  from  eternity  in  a  perpetual  round.  There 
*' is  in  it  no  difference  between  seeing  the  sioic 
"  things  a  hundred  years,  two  hundred 5ear.s,  or  in 
"  a  longer  duration,"  How  dull  and  unpleasant  is 
N  2.    > .  thlr, 


1^4  OF     THE     PHILOSOPHY 

this  prospect  cgjpparcd  to  thiit  wiiich  is  suggested 
ill  our  scriptures ;  according  to  which  nothing  will 
( vcr  r(  turn  to  the  state  in  \\  hich  it  has  been  before, 
but  every  thing  will  continually  advance  in  ini- 
pro\ement,  without,  however,  ever  reaching  pcr- 
fcct'ion^  which  must  e\er  be  tlie  exclusive  preroga- 
ti\e  of  the  Supreme  Being. 

I^he  duty  of  absolute  submission  to  the  divine 
\^il!,  and  the  order  of  nature,  as  coincident  widi  it, 
cannot  be  inculcated  more  forcibly  tlian  it  is  by  the 
Stoics.  "  Man,"  says  Marcus  Antoninus,  (Lib. 
xii.  sect.  12.)  "  should  donodiingbut  what  God 
"  himself  would  approve,  and  he  should  receive 
"  \\illingly  \\hatever  he  assigns  him.  \Vith  re- 
*'  sptet  to  every  thing  that  is  agreeable  to  nature, 
"  the  i^ods  are  not  to  be  blamed,  for  they  do  nothing 
"  \\rong  v.ith  design."  "  The  principal  article  of 
*' piety  towards  the  gods,"  says  Epietetus,  (sect. 
.'>1.)'"  is  to  have  just  opinions  coneeniing  them, 
"  as  diat  they  exist,  and  administer  every  thing 
*'  u  ell  and  rightly,  and  tliat  it  is  our  business  to 
"  obey  them,  and  acquiesce  Aoluntarily  in  every 
"  thing  that  takes  place,  as  being  disposed  for  the 
"best."  Treating  of  death,  Marcus  Antoninus 
says,  (Lib.  \\.  sect.  10.)  "  If  every  thing  be  order- 
•'  ed  by  providence,  I  venerate  the  supreme  niler, 

"  and 


OF     THE     STOICS.  195 

"  iind,  depending  upon  him,  am  iinnyoved."  From 
'^Tiis  opinion  of  the  duty  of  submission  to  the  di\ine 
will,  he  excellently  obsen^es,  (Lib.  ix.  sect.  40.) 
*'  the  gods  either  have  power,  or  no  power.  If 
"  they  iiave  no  power,  why  do  you  pray?  If  they 
*■'■  have  power,  why  do  you  not  rather  pray  that  you 
"  may  be  without  anxiety  about  an  event,  than  that 
*'  the  event  may  not  take  place  ?"  This  may  in- 
struct even  a  christian. 

It  was  the  opinion  of  all  the  heathens,  from  the 
earliest  to  tlie  latest  times,  that  it  ^vas  right,  and 
even  necessar\',  to  adhere  to  the  religious  rites  o^ 
their  ancestors ;  since  die  prosperity  of  the  state 
they  thought  depended  upon  it.  On  this  princi- 
ple, absurd  and  groundless  as  it  apparently  is,  it 
was  that  the  wisest  and  best  of  the  heathens  acted. 
It  was  on  this  principle  that  Marcus  Antoninus, 
Trajan,  and  some  others,  die  best  disposed  of  the 
Roman  emperors,  wished  to  exterminate  the  chris- 
tians, in  order  diat  the  rites  of  the  antient  religion 
might  not  grow  into  disuse,  to  the  endangering  of 
the  state.  "  It  is  every  person's  duty,"  says  E- 
pictetus,  (sect.  31.)  "to  ma\e  libations,  offer  sa- 
"  orifices,  and  first  fruits,  according  to  the  custom 
"  of  his  country,  not  sordidl}^  or  negligently,  nor 
"  above  our  means." 

N3.  The 


196  OF     THE     rniLOSOPHV 

Tlie  good  sense,  houcvcr,  of  Marcus  Antoninus 
taught  him  th;it  thci'C  might  be  an  excess,  and  su- 
perstition, in  this  external  vvorsl.ip.  For  he  com- 
mends aperson  (Lib.  vi.  sect.  30.;  for  l>cing  "  rcli- 
*'  gious  without  superstition."  He  ali>o  i;ays  (Lib. 
vi.  sect.  23.)  "  In  all  things  pray  for  the  divine 
*'  aid,  and  consider  that  there  is  no  difference  how 
"  long  \\c  are  doing  this.  Three  hours  thus  pas- 
*' sed  may  suffice."  He  docs  not,  however,  say 
for  vvliat  space  of  time  thcbc  three  hours  would 
suffice. 

Lilic  Socrates,  the  emperor  connected  the  practice 
of  morality  whh  religion  ;  though  widi  this,  the  re- 
ligious rites  of  states,  those  on  which  their  prospe- 
rity M  as  thought  to  depend,  had  no  connection 
w  hatever.  "  It  is  of  much  consequence,"  he  says, 
(Lib.  X.  sect.  8.)  "to  remember  diat  there  are 
•'  gods,  and  that  they  do  not  wish  men  to  deceive 
"them,  or  to  flatter  them,  but  to  imitate  them. 
*'  He  that  fears  pain,  (Lib.  ix  sect.  1.)  fears  what 
"  must  be  in  the  world,  and  this  is  impious;  ajid 
"  he  who  follows  pleasure  will  not  refrain  from  in^ 
"justice,  which  is  certainly  impious." 

Section 


OF    THE     STOICS.  197 

Section  II. 
Of  the  Human  Soul. 

Hitherto  we  have  found  the  principles  of  the 
Stoics  what  may  be  called  sublime^  and  in  a  great 
degree  rational,  as  there  is  but  little  to  correct  in 
their  ideas  of  the  supreme  intelligence,  of  his  uni- 
versal providence,  or  the  obligation  they  maintain 
that  all  men  are  under  to  conform  to  its  will,  and 
acquiesce  in  its  decisions,  as  necessarily  right  and 
good.  But  we  shall  now  find  them  deviating  \'e- 
r\^  far  from  truth  and  common  sense,  and  leading 
tliemselves  and  others  into  errors  of  a  practical  na- 
ture, as  we  proceed  to  consider  their  ideas  concern- 
ing the  mind  of  ?nan,  the  disposition  to  be  cultivat- 
ed in  it,  and  the  essentials  of  moral  virtue. 

The  Stoics  held  the  doctrine  of  t/ircc  principle': 
in  man,  viz.  his  body,  consisting  of  gross  matter, 
the  principle  of  mere  animal  life,  called  by  them 
(  TTvsvua )  or  ( ijyuxr?,  )  and  the  proper  intellectual 
principle,  called  {vov$.)  The  difference  between 
men  and  other  animals  appeared  to  them  to  be  so 
great,  that  they  could  not  believe  the  latter  to  be 
possessed  of  the  highest  principle  of  human  nature. 
N  4.  But 


198  OF     I  HE     PHILOSOrilY 

But  as  nun  have  every  thing  that  belongs  to 
brutes,  in  uliiclithey  acknowledge  some  thing  su- 
perior to  mere  matter,  they  uere  under  a  necessity 
of  making  the  component  p:uts  of  man  to  be 
three. 

IMoreover,  as  they  considered  all  matter  as  fun- 
damentally  the  same,  though  forming  different  sub- 
stances, they  conceived  die  animal  principle  to  be 
the  same  in  all,  flowing  from  a  common  source,  to 
anim.ate  particular  bodies  for  a  time,  and  then,  like 
the  breath  to  whicli  it  A\as  generallv  compared, 
mixed  with  the  origin  from  which  it  \\as  derived. 

In  like  manner,  having  no  idea  of  a  proper  cre- 
ation^ i.  e.  out  of  nc! /ling,  the}'  considered  the  high- 
est principle  in  man,  aIz.  that  of  intelligence,  as  the 
same  in  all,  dcri\'ed  from  tlic  same  source ;  and 
this  they  conceived  to  be  tlie  supreme  intelligence, 
which  disposed  and  directs  tlie  affairs  of  the  whole 
universe,  and  like  tlic  principle  of  animal  life,  they 
held  that,  being  detached  from  Uiis  source  at  tlie 
bi.ili  of  every  man,  it  was  absorbed  into  it  again 
ftfter  his  death,  as  a  drop  of  \\ater  (to  use  a  com- 
parison that  is  frequent  with  them)  is  absorbed  and 
lost  in  die  ocean.  Consequendy,  its  separate  ex- 
istence, and  separate  consciousness,  Uien  \'anishcd. 

Accord- 


OF    THE     STOICS.  199 

According  to  this  philosophy,  therefore,  the  soiib 
of  men  are  so  many  portions  of  the  diA'inity  ;  and 
tliis  led  the  professors  of  it  to  ascribe  to  them  the 
properties  and  powers  of  divinity,  making  them 
sufficient  for  tiieir  oavii  happiness,  independently  of 
ever}^  thing  external  to  them.  And,  as  the  su- 
preme intelligence  is  incapable  of  suffering  from 
evil  of  any  kind,  tiiey  transferred  this  extraordina- 
ry power  to  the  soul ;  maintaining  that  notl  ing 
foreign  to  itself  could  affect  it  without  its  own  con- 
sent, so  that  it  is  in  every  man's  power  to  be  com- 
pletely htippv,  whatever  his  outward  circumstances 
may  be. 

This  sentiment,  which  has  an  air  of  great  subli- 
inity,  tended  to  inspire  the  Stoics  with  a  sense  of 
native  dignity,  rendering  them  superior  to  every 
tiling  mean  and  base;  but  it  excluded  humilit}^ 
and  many  amiable  and  useful  virtues,  peculiarly 
adapted  to  the  state  of  society  with  beings  equally 
imperfect  with  themselves.  Their  sentiments  how- 
ever, on  this  subject  so  nearly  connected  with  mo- 
rals, led  them  to  express  themsehes  with  respect  to 
the  common  accidents  of  life  in  a  manner  that,  with 
a  little  qualification,  is  truly  admirable  and  edify- 
ing. But  when  taken  literally  their  language  just- 
ly shocks  a  christian,  who  feels  his  own  weakness, 
N  5.  and 


200  OF    THE     IMIILOSOrUY 

and  is  thereby  disposed  to  compassionate  tlie  weak- 
ness luul  infirmitLes  of  others  ;  the  most  amiable, 
and  in  the  present  state  of  tlnnj^,  one  of  the  most 
useful  of  all  virtues. 

On  the  subject  of  the  different  component  parts 
of  man  Marcus  Antoninus  expresses  himself  as 
follows:  "Man, (Lib.  xii.  sect.  2.)  consists  of  flesh, 
"  the  animal  piinciple,  {TrvsviJLuJiov )  and  the  go- 
*'  vernin}^  principle  (  ■/j'/.-^vikov.  )  The  ( Trviv^oc  ) 
'*  is  breath,  or  air,  {uvty.^)  nor  is  it  always  the 
"  same,  but  is  drawn  in  and  emitted.  You  con- 
"  sist,  (Lib.  xii.  sect.  3.)  of  three  parts,  the  body, 
*'  the  {-KVivy^ujiov,)  and  tlic  mind,  (  y:vi  )•  Thr 
*'  two  former  arc  so  far  yours,  iis  that  the}-  are 
♦*  committed  to  your  care,  but  the  third  only  is 
*'  properly  yours."  For  the  intellectual  part  of 
man  was  considered  as  so  much  superior  to  the 
other  two,  as  to  deserve  to  be  alone  called  a  nicui's 
sc'lf.  And  on  se\eral  occasions  we  shall  find  that 
the  two  other  parts  v\ere  thought  to  be  as  much  fo- 
ixign  to  a  man  as  if  they  did  not  belong  to  him  at 
all,  an}-  more  than  other  parts  of  the  external  world. 

The  unity  of  these  three  elements  of  which  every 
man  consists,  is  thus  described  by  Marcus  Antoni- 
nus, "One  living  principle  (ylivyj)  (Lib.  ix.  sect.  8.) 
*'  is  distributed  to  all  irrational  animals,  and  one  in- 

"  telligcnt 


«r    THE    STOICS.  201 

*'  telligent  living  principle  ( vcs^^a  4/u%i?  )  to  all  ra- 
"  tional  ones,  just  as  to  the  several  elements  there 
**  is  one  and  the  same  earth.  We  all  see  and  live 
*•  with  one  light,  and  breathe  one  air.  There  is 
"  (Lib.  xii.  sect.  30.)  one  light  of  the  sun,  though 
*'  it  be  distributed  upon  different  things,  one  com- 
*'  mon  nature,  though  distributed  into  various  dif- 
"  ferent  bodies,  one  (ipi'X'?)  )  though  distributed  to 
**  innumerable  peculiar  natures,  and  one  intelli- 
"  gent  principle  ( voc-[)Cc  il^wx'J  )  though  it  seems  to 
*'  be  divided." 

The  idea  which  the  Stoics  entertained  of  the  na- 
tive dignity,  and  superior  powers,  of  the  human 
mind  flowed  necessarily  from  their  opinion  of  its 
origin  and  final  destination;  but  it  coiresponds 
very  little  with  experience,  and  is  wholly  discordant 
with  the  principles  of  revelation.  "  You  forget," 
says  Marcus  Antoninus,  (Lib.  xii.  sect.  26.)  "  that 
"  the  mind  of  every  man  is  God,  and  flowed  from 
"  the  divinity."  And  again,  (Lib.  iv.  sect.  14.) 
"  Thou  art  part  of  the  universe,  and  will  vanish 
"  into  that  which  produced  thee,  or  rather  by  some 
*'  intervening  change,  thou  wilt  be  received  into 
*'  die  seminal  reason  (  Xoyov  a-Tr-pfji^ocjiKc:'  )  i.  e.  die 
*'  the  source  of  all  reason.  '^ 

These 


202  OF   THE   niiLOcopny 

.  These  ideas  of  the  great  power,  and  natuixd  in- 
dependence, of  the  mind  were  suiuibleto  the  opini- 
on of  iU  high  ori^^in  and  final  destination,  as  having 
been  original!}-  part  of  the  supreme  iini\'erK^  intel- 
ligence, and  destir.ed  to  be  alisorl^'d  into  it,  and  to 
beeomc  part  of  it  again.  "  It  belongs,"  says  Mai-- 
ciis  Antoninus,  (Lib.  vii.  sect.  55.)  "  to  the  mind 
"to  be  free  from  error  and  defect.  Neither  fire, 
'*  nor  e::tezTial  violence,  nor  calumny,  nor  any 
"  thing  else  can  reach  the  mind  when,  like  a  sphere, 
"  it  is  compact  within  itself  (J/ib.  ^iii.  sect.  41.) 
"  The  soul  endued  ^\ith  reason  has  t!:c  following 
"  powers,  (Lib.  xi.  sect.  L)  it  sees  itself,  it  forms 
"  and  limits  itself,  it  makes  itself  whatever  it  pleas- 
*' es.  Whatever  fruit  it  produces  it  reaps  itself; 
"  whereas  other  persons  gather  the  fruits  of  tj-ees, 
**  and  also  whate\er  is  produced  froin  animals. 
"  It  always  gains  its  purpose,  at  \\  hatever  time  its 
"  life  terminates  ;  so  that  it  is  not,  as  in  a  dance, 
*'  or  a  play,  in  which  the  action  is  sometimes  intcr- 
"  nipted  by  incidents,  and  is  therefore  imperfect. 
*'  But  wherever  it  is  taken,  wh?ct  precedes  is  com- 
"  plete  and  perfect ;  so  that  I  may  say,  I  have  eve- 
*'  ry  thing  that  belongs  to  me  within  me.  Add  to 
*'  diis,  the  mind  traverses  the  whole  world,  and 
*'  what  suiTounds  it.     It  contemplates  its  form, 

"  and 


0¥    THE     STOICS.  203 

*'  and  lookiiii^  forward  into  eternity,  it  considers 
*'  the  reno^'ation  of  the  universe  at  certain  inter- 
"  vals." 

An  essential  prerogative  of  the  mind  of  man,  and 
of  tlie  most  use  in  the  conduct  of  life,  the  Stoics 
considered  to  be  its  coimnand  of  thought^  and  hy 
this  means  its  total  independence  on  every  thing  fo- 
reign to  itself;  since  it  is  under  no  necessit}^  of 
giving  any  attention  To  them.  "  How  can  opini- 
/'  ons,"  says  Marcus  Antoninus  (Lil).  vii.  sect.  2.) 
*'  be  abolished,  unless  thoughts  suitable  to  them  be 
*'  extinguislied,  which  you  may  for  tiiat  purpose 
"  call  up  whenever  you  please.  I  can  think  of 
"  any  thing  that  I  have  occasion  for  ;  and  if  I  can, 
*'  why  should  my  mind  be  disturbed  ?" 

Thus  these  philosophers  flattered  themselves  with 
the  idea  of  tlieir  happiness  being  wholly  indepen- 
dent on  any  thing  foreign  to  the  mind,  and  that  it 
became  them  to  maintain  a  perfect  indifference  to- 
wards every  thing  that  is  die  object  of  affection,  or 
respe.*'',  to  other  men.  "  If  you  behave"  says  E- 
pictetus  (sect.  15.)  *'  with  becoming  indifference 
"  towards  children,  wife,  the  magistrate,  riches, 
**  &c.  &:c.  you  will  be  worthy  of  being  a  guest  of 
"  the  gods;  but  if  you  can  despise  all  these  things 
**  that  are  foreign  to  yourself,  you  will  not  only  be 

"  a  com- 


204  OF    THE     PHILOSOPHY 

"  a  companion  with  them,  but  a  god  \ourbclf. 
"  Thus  Diogenes,  Hcraclitus,  and  others  Hke 
*■  them,  deserve  to  be  called,  and  really  ncre,  di- 
**  vine.''^  It  is  surely  hardly  possible  to  carry  ex- 
travagance and  absurdity  farther  than  this  ;  so  far, 
however,  we  see  that  a  false  philosophy,  pursued 
to  its  natural  consequences,  can  cany  men  from 
every  thing  that  we  aie  taught  by  daily  experience 
aixl  observation  of  common  life.  And  yet  these 
vere  men  of  deep  thought  and  reflection,  and  both 
Kpictetus  and  Marcus  Antoninus  lived  in  the  world, 
and  had  to  do  \\\\h  men  and  their  affairs 


Section   III. 

Of  rirtue  and  Ficc. 

The  great  use  of  religion,  and  of  moral  philoso- 
phy, is  to  furnish  thg  mind  >\  ith  proper  rules  of 
life,  by  the  observance  of  which  we  shall  best  se- 
cure our  own  happiness,  and  be  the  most  (''  nosed 
to  promote  that  of  others,  to  enable  us  to  bear  the 
evils  of  life  with  the  least  pain,  and  the  prospect  of 
death  without  terror.  On  all  these  three  heads, 
therefore,  I  shall  examine  the  merit  of  the  Stoical 

philosophy,  and  compare  it  with  the  christian. 

The 


OF    THE    STOICS.  205 

y 

The  dli^nified  sentiments  maintained  by  the 
Stoics  concerning  the  human  soul  lead  us  to  ex- 
pect great  elevation  of  mind  with  respect  to  virtue; 
and  in  this  we  shall  no  tbe  disappointed,  as  far  as  vir- 
tue in  their  ideas  of  it  extended ;  and  it  compre- 
hended every  thing  that  relates  to  the  due  govern- 
ment of  the  passions,  all  the  relative  duties,  and 
those  that  affect  the  intercourse  between  man  and 
man.  They  also  made  happiness  to  depend  entire- 
ly on  the  practice  of  viitue,  independent  on  any  fo- 
reign consideration,  such  as  the  fear  of  punish- 
ment, the  hope  of  reward,  or  the  opinion  of  otheis, 
expressed  in  praise  or  censure. 

Marcus  Antoninus,  having  observed  tliat  it  is  in 
the  power  of  man  to  be  happy  in  any  situation,  and 
especially  in  one  that  suits  him,  says  (Lib.  v.  sect, 
36.)  "  If  you  ask  what  this  proper  situation  is,  lan- 
**  swer,  that  it  consists  in  good  morals,  a  good  dis- 
"  position,  and  good  actions.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  a 
"  man  (Lib.  viii.  sect.  26.)  to  do  what  suits  his  na- 
"  ture,  and  it  suits  the  nature  of  man  to  be  kind  to 
*'  his  countrymen,  to  command  die  emotions  of 
*'  his  senses,  to  distinguish  what  is  probable  in 
"  what  is  before  him,  to  contemplate  the  nature  of 
"  the  universe,  and  the  things  that  are  agreeable  to 
**  it.     Do  nothing"  he  says,  (Lib.  xi.  sect.  18.) 

"  for 


1  OF     THE     PHILOSOPHY 

-  tlK'sakc  of  admiration,  but  be  the  same  ^^  lieu 
*'  alone  as  if  your  were  before  others."  For  he 
justly  obscTA-es  (Lib.  xii.  sect.  4.)  "  Wc  fear  more 
*' what  others  think  of  us,  than  what  we  think  of 
"  ourselves."  Agreeable  to  this,  Epictetus  says 
(sect.  23.)  "  If  your  thoughts  be  employed  in  ex- 
*'  temal  things,  and  you  wish  to  please  any  person, 
'*  you  err  from  the  path  of  life  ;  whereas  in  all  ea- 
"  ses  remember  that  you  are  a  philosopher,  and 
"  that  you  appear  so  to  yourself,  tliough  not  to 
"others." 

The  Stoics  carried  the  principle  of  disinterested- 
ness to  the  highest  pitch,  beyond  the  bounds  of  rea- 
son ornature,  expecting  no  reward  for  their  virtues 
eitl!cr  in  this  life,  or  any  other,  except  the  satisflicti- 
on  of  their  own  minds ;  and  this  was  short  of  any 
proper  pleasurable  sensation.  For,  according  to 
their  general  system,  nothing  of  this  kind  ought  to 
be  indulged.  "  When  you  confer  a  favour"  says 
Marcus  Antoninus  (Lib.  ix.  sect.  42.)  *'  is  not  this 
"sufficient,  without  any  i"e\vard  ?  Docs  the  eye 
"  require  a  reward  for  seeing,  or  the  feet  for  walk- 
**  ing?  So  man,  who  is  made  to  do  good,  should 
*'  be  satisfied  w  ith  tlie  good  that  he  does." 

These  extremely  rigid  maxims,  so  much  above 
the  comprehension  of  the  vulgar,  led  tliein  to  cou^ 

sider 


OF    THE    STOICS.  207 

^idcr  the  practice  of  A'irtue  as  the  peculiar  privi- 
lege of  philosophers,  and  real  happiness  asnir.ch 
more  so.  For  who  besides  philosophers  could  be 
expected  to  despise  e^■ery  thing  thut  '^^■as  foreign  to 
themselves,  and  to  consider  f^xcry  thing  on  \\iiich 
the  comfort  of  life  depends  asinckided  in  tliis  class; 
and  \vithoiit  this  there  is,  according  to  them,  nei- 
ther real  ^'irtue  or  true  happiness,  as  \\  ill  l>e  more 
evident  in  the  farther  dcvelopement  of  their  prin- 
ciples. 

Some  philosophers  vrcre  poor,  as  Epictetus  him- 
self, who  ^vas  even  some  time  in  servitude  ;  and  in 
an  age  in  wliich  books  were  scarce  and  dear,  and 
learnini^  not  easily  attained,  some  of  them  m!;.^ht 
not  be  able  to  read.  In  this  case  Marcus  Antoni- 
lius  says,  (Lib.  viii.  cap.  8.)  "  If  you  cannot  read, 
*'  you  can  abstain  from  abuse,  even  of  the  ungrate- 
*'  ful,  and  also  be  kind  to  them.  You  need  not  be 
*'  heard  to  complahi  of  your  situation,  or  envy 
*' that  of  others."  Happily,  hov.cver,  these  vir- 
tues and  every  other  may  be  attained  without  phi- 
losoph}-. 

Unhappily,  the  Stoics  considered  every  thing 
that  is  foreign  to  the  calm  dictates  of  reason,  ail  e- 
motions  and  passions,  a:i  belonging  to  mere  animal 
nature ;  seeing  that   men  have  them   in  .common 

O.  with 


208  OF    THE    piiii.osonrr 

•\\ilh  brutes.     They,  therefore,  thought  it  a  pohit 
of  niai^.ianinilty  and  duty  in  man  to  suppress  every 
thing  ofthis  kind  w  lti»  respect  to  others,  as  well  as 
themselves.     Do  not,"  says  Marcus  Antoninus, 
(Lib.  vii.  sect.  43.) ''  join  others  in  their  lamentati- 
"ons,  or  l:e  moved  by  them."     Epictetus,  howe- 
ver, makes  some  little  allowance  for  the  weakness 
ofhuman  nature  when  he  says  (sect.  16.)  "  If  you 
"  see  a  friend  in  distress,  accommodate  yourself  to 
*'  him  so  far  as  to  lament  and  gioan  dong  with  him, 
*'  but  take  care  that  you  groan  not  inwardly." 

These  maxims,  I  need  not  sa}-,  are  as  remote 
from  the  dictates  of  nature,  as  they  are  from  die 
precepts  of  scripture,  which  bids  us  to  be  kindly  af- 
fcctioucd  one  to  anotJicr^  ijoith  brot/icrly  love,  and 
from  this  principle  to  rejoice  wit/i  them  that  rejoice^ 
and  to  Tocep  "cnth  them  that  ivecp.  How  can  men 
be  supposed  to  act.,  but  as  prompted  by  Xhtiv  feel- 
ings ? 

Though  Mai'cus  Antoninus  advises  to  do  good 
to  a  man's  fellow  citizens,  and  even  to  the  ungrate- 
fiil,  it  was  not,  according  to  his  principles,  to  be 
dictated  by  any  affection,  as  that  of  Iwuc,  but  only 
because  it  was  the  part  of  man,  and  became  him  to 
act  in  this  manner ;  as  it  A\as  for  the  eye  to  see,  or 
the  feet  to  walk.  Butchristiajiity  knows  notliing  of 

the 


OF    THE    STOICS.  209 

the  distinction  of  the  different  eomponent  parts  of 
man,  and  the  natural  superiority  of  one  of  tliem  to 
the  rest.  Paul,  though  he  expresses  a  wish  that 
his  brethren  might  \)(t  sanctified  in  body^  soul  and  spi- 
rit^ it  v/as  only  in  allusion  to  the  three  fold  division 
of  man  above  mentioned,  which  was  familiiu'  to  the 
Greeks,  to  whom  he  \\'as  writing,  desiring  that, 
^\•hatever  they  considered  as  belonging  to  man,  or 
part  of  him,  it  might  be  sanctified,  as  a  suitable 
temple  for  the  spirit  of  God.  He  was  not  declar- 
ing his  own  principles,  as  a  Jew,  or  a  Christ!  n. 

The  opinion  which  the  Stoics  maintained  of  the 
superior  excellence  of  the  intellectual  pn:iciple  in 
all  men  was  such,  that  they  considered  e^•ery  emo- 
tion or  passion  that  led  to  vice  as  foreigr.  to  it,  as 
arising  only  from  the  principle  that  is  common  to 
men  and  brutes ;  and  therefore  not  horn  anv  tiling 
that  was  properly  a  man's  self.  In  consequence  of 
this,  they  professed  to  have  no  iiidignLition  ag.iinst 
tlie  vices  of  men,  but  considered  them  like  evils, 
and  inconveniences  of  an}  other  kind,  at  \vhlch  it 
does  not  become  any  man  to  be  disturbed,  being 
acrreeable  to  the  order  of  the  nature. 

.  Accordingly,  Marcus  Antoninus  having  observed 

that  wc  have  no  reastni  to  complain  of  the  gods  w  ith 

Q  2.  respect 


V 


210-  or    THE   niiLOzoi'iiY 

icspcct  to  any  thlnp'  that  befalls  us,  adds(Lil).  xif. 
sect.  12.)  '*'  Neither  arc  men  to  Ijc  complained  of. 
*'  Tor  nLiihcr  do  they  ofiRnd  williniijly.  It  is  the  part 
*'  of  man  (Lib.  vii.  sect.  22.)  to  love  those  who  of- 
"  fend  tl^.cm ;  and  this  he  will  do  if  he  recollect 
*'  that  all  men  arc  related,  and  that  when  they  of- 
"  fend,  it  is  whtn  they  do  not  know  it,  or  do  it  a- 
**  gainst  their  w  ills.  When  I  consider  that  the 
*'  person  who  injures  m.e  (Lilx  ii.  sect.  1.)  is  a  par- 
*'  taker  cf  the  same  intellect,  and  portion  of  the 
*'  divinity,  that  I  cannot  be  injured  In'  him,  that  he 
*'  has  no  pow  cr  to  di'aw  me  into  any  thing  disho- 
*'  nest,  I  cannot  be  angry  with  him,  or  hate  him." 

The  Stoics  were  led  into  these  sentiments,  and 
tiiis  conduct,  by  considering  every  man  as  wholly 
independent  on  e\'ery  other,  each  being  separately 
suflicient  for  his  own  happiness,  and  incapable  of 
interfering  with  th.at  of  any  otlier.  "  Does  anv 
*'  person  ofiend  uic,"  says  Marcus  Antoninus  (Lib. 
V.  sect.  25.)  "  let  him  look  to  it.  He  has  his  own 
*'  dispositions  and  actions,  and  I  have  what  nature 
"  w  ills  me  to  have,  and  I  do  w  hat  is  agreeaiile  to 
*'  nature."  Again  he  says,  (Lib.  iv.  cap.  26.) 
"  Does  any  person  injure  me.  No,  he  hijures 
"  himself.  If  you  suffer  (Lib.  ix.  sect.  42.) 
"  through  fiaudu lent,  faithless,  injurious,  persons, 

"  consi- 


OF    TKE     STOICS.  211 

"  consider  that  tliere  must  be  such  men  in  thr 
"  VTOrld,   and  vou   will   bear  with  them. 


..v^-.v^,       ^^,.^     J'"-^        iwii        i^v^tll        Willi      lilL-ill.  VV 


you  take  any  thing  ill  (Lib.  xii.  sect.  25.)  you 
forget  that  every  thing  takes  place  according  to 
*'  tlie  nature  of  the  universe.  If  vre  consider  these 
"  things  only  as  evils  Vvhich  depend  upon  our  ou  n 
*'  wills,  we  shall  see  no  reason  for  blameinc!:,  or  bear- 
"  ingill  will  to,  an}'^  man." 

Besides  diis  great  indiSerence  to  the  vices  of 
other  persons,  as  injuring  only  themselves,  that  of 
fornication  was  never  considered  by  any  heathen;* 
philosopliers,  or  odicrs,  as  one,  an}-  farther  tlian  it 
was  found  to  be  hijurious.  This  is  evident  from 
the  advice  that  E.pictetus  gives  (sect.  33.)  *'  Ab- 
"  stain  as  much  as  }'ou  can  from  veiiery  bclbre 
"  marriage.  If  not,  do  it  as  the  lav/s  permit,  but 
^' do  not  find  fault  with  others  Vvho  are  nut  eon ti- 
*'  nent,  or  boast  that  you  ai'e  so." 

How  short  is  this  of  the  purity  required  of  chris- 
tians, vvho  are  taught  to  consider  fornicators,  as  well 
as  adulterers,  diicves,  See.  excluded  from  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,  and  how  little  attention  must  these 
philosophers  have  given  to  the  natural  consequence 
of  venereal  indulgence  vvithout  the  bounds  of  mar- 
riage ;  how  ill  it  qualifies  men  to  be  affectio  nate 

O  3.  husbands 


212  oj    THE   nriLCcopiiY 

husbnrids,  and  fallicrs,  ai:d  that  in  many  cases  it 
n\iist  indispose  nu'i  to  marriage  in  general.  There 
was  also  this  inconsistence  in  tlKJr  maxims  in  this 
respect,  that  fornication  \vas  always  reckoned  infa- 
mous in  the  female  sex  ;  so  that  women  of  charac- 
ter never  associated  with  known  prostitutes.  The 
christian  catalogue  of  both  virtues  and  vices  is  far 
more  copious  than  that  of  tlie  heathens,  which  was 
defective  \\  iih  respect  to  duties  of  ever}-  kind,  those 
thiit  are  commonly  said  men  ov,  e  to  dicmselves,  and 
to  society,  as  well  as  those  that  \\e  owe  to  God,  not- 
withstanding tlwt  of  submission  to  his  will,  which 
is  one  of  the  great  excellencies  of  the  maxims  of 
the  Stoics ;  as  this  was  founded  chiefly  on  its  being 
merely  taken  for  granted,  without  considering  any 
particular  evidence  of  it,  that  evciy  Uiing  in  the 
universe,  and  the  goveinmtnt  of  ii,  must  be  right. 
For  the  wisdom  of  j)r()\idence  in  the  permission  or 
appointment  of  evil  is  never  mentioned  by  Marcus 
Antoninus.  That  such  things  as  evils  of  every 
kind  must  bc^  is  the  amount  of  all  diat  he  says  on 
the  subject ;  and  Uiat  they  do  not  aftect  anv  person 
\\ho  considers  these  as  foreign  to  himself.  He 
says  nothing  of  the  beneficial  tendency  of  the  tilings 
that  we  call  evil,  and  complain  of  in  the  system, 
obvious  as  diis  tendency  is  now  seen  to  be.  Mar- 
cus 


OF     THE     STOICS.  213 

cus    Antoninus  would   bear  tribulation,   but  tlie 
apostle  Paul  rejoices  in  it. 

The  maxims  of  the  heathens  "vvcre  still  more  de- 
fective v;ith  respect  to  sufficient  niothesio  the  prac- 
tice of  virtue,  in  the  fear  of  future  punishment,  and 
the  prospect  of  future  reward  ;  and  all  other  mo- 
tives will  have  but  little  hold  on  the  bulk  of  man- 
kind, especially  if  they  be  already  engaged  in  bad 
habits.  On  such  persons,  a  disinterested  respect  to 
virtue,  so  much  insisted  upon  by  Pvlarcus  Antoni- 
nus, cannot  be  expected  to  ha\'c  any  influence. 


Section   IV. 

OftJie  'various  Ei^'ils  of  Life. 

Another  great  use  of  religion  and  philosophy  is 
to  enable  men  to  bear  the  various  evils  incident  to 
them  in  life  with  as  little  inconvenience  as  possible  ; 
and  accordingl}^  this  was  a  princi]:)al  object  of  die 
philosophy  of  the  Stoics,  far  more  than  it  was  with 
any  of  the  other  sects.  In  this  inspect  their  preten- 
sions went  very  high  indeed,  far,  as  we  shall  see, 
beyond  the  bounds  of  reason  and  nature;  so  that 
daily  experience,  one  would  have  thouglit,  must 
O  4.  have 


2 1  '1  Of    r  II  £    r II 1 1. 0 s o  r  H  y 

have  cor.vinced  ihcm  (jf  llicir  mistake.  Xotnitli- 
star.diR[^  tliis,  they  resolutely  niaiiitaincd  their  fa- 
vourite,  anJ  indeed  fundamental  maxims,  of  indif- 
fercncc  to  every  thing  foreign  to  themselves,  (mean- 
ing the  intellectual  principle  in  them  onl} )  which 
enjoined  palicnee  under,  and  even  insensibility  to, 
all  that  mankind  in  general  complain  of,  and  call 
ceils  I 

On  this  principle  they  held  that,  w  ithout  its  own 
consent,  the  mind  could  not  be  affected  by  any 
thing.  "  I  learned,"  says  Marcus  Antoninus  (Lib. 
1.  sect.  8.)  *'  of  Apollonius  to  regard  nothing  be- 
"  sides  mere  reason,  to  be  the  same  in  the  most 
"  acute  pain,  in  the  loss  of  children,  and  in  diseas- 
*'  es  of  long  continuance."  So  also  Epictetus 
says,  (sect.  1.)  "  If  the  things  that  disturb  you  be 
"  not  in  your  pow  er,  have  it  ready  to  say.  This  is 
**  notI";ing  to  me.  And  if  you  consider  that  only 
'*  as  yours  ^hich  is  yours,  and  what  is  foreign  to 
"  you  as  foreign  to  you,  no  person  will  constrain 
**  or  hinder  you.  You  will  complain  of  no  man. 
*'  You  will  do  nothing  against  your  w ill.  You 
"  will  have  no  enemv,  nor  suffer  anv  dunsr  disa- 
"gieeabletoyou." 

This 


OF    THE     STOICS.  215 

This  opinion  of  tliLMiatiirc  and  povvxrs  of  the 
mind,  and  of  things  that  were,  or  were  not,  fo- 
reign to  themselves,  an  opinion  on  u hieh  so  much 
depended,  they  contrived  to  be  easily  formed  by 
those  who  had  been  tauglit  to  ji'iilosophize,  so  as 
to  be  readily  applied  on  all  occasions.  It  was  only 
the  office  of  thoiiQ-hl,  than  v>  hich  nothini:*  is  more 
easy  to  mind^  the  property  of  which  is  to  think. 
In  this  respect  thev  made  no  difference  between 
the  most  painful  sensations  and  impressions,  cor- 
poreal or  mental,  though  in  these  we  find  that  the 
mind  is  absolutely  passive ;  tliey  supposing  all 
sensations  and  emotions  were  to  be  refeiTcd  to  the 
merely  animal  part  of  man,  on  vihich  they  maiii 
tained  that  the  mind  was  A\holly  independent ;  so 
that  whatever  impression  might  be  made  from 
without,  it  was  in  its  power  to  rclic\'e  itself. 

Consequently,  they  held  that  pieasu  re  and  pain 
of  every  kind  are  not  to  be  classed  among  things 
diat  are  either  good  or  evil.  Marcus  Antoninus 
says  (Lib.  ii.  cap.  11.)  "  Life  and  death,  honour 
"  and  ignominy,  pain  and  pleasure,  wealth  and  po- 
"  verty,  may  be  equally  considered  as  good  or  evil ; 
"  since  they  are  neither  honourable  nor  dislio- 
"  nourable,  and  are  therefore  neither  s:ood  no- 
0  5.  "evil*." 


-10  or      1  HE     J'HILOSOniY 

"  evil-:; ."  ijij,  ii;^.  aifliculty  consists  in  being  ful. 
ly  coininced  of  this,  and  regarding  that  as  indiffer- 
ent in  contradiction  to  the  actual  llxlings  of  them- 
selves, as  well  as  of  the  rest  of  mankind.  Of  diis, 
ho^vc^'er,  they  made  very  light. 

*'  Reject  opinion,"  says  Marcus  Antoninus, 
(Lib.  xii.  sect.  25.)  "  and  you  lue  safe  ;  and  v. hat 
"  hinders  your  doing  this,  \vhen  any  thing  happens 
*'  tliat  is  disagreeable  to  you  ?  }ou  forget  that  this 

"  happens 

*  There  is  a  passage  in  t/ie  TliNl'  of  Cebes^  ivho 
ivas  a  disciple  of  Socrates^  in  iv/iic/i  this  sentiment 
of  life  and  deaths  health  and  sickness ^  being  to  be 
classed  among  things  indifferent  to  Jiappiness  occurs. 
But  it  must  hai}e  been  added  by  some  person  %vho,  if 
not  a  Stoic,  must  ha've  lived  long  after  the  time  of 
this  Ccbcs.  "  /-{/t',"  he  says,  is  not  to  be  classed 
"  arnong  the  goods  or  the  e^  ils ;  because  it  is  enjoy - 
*'  ed  alike  by  those  'ivho  live  well,  and  those  ivho  live 
*'  ill.  The  same  vmy  be  said  of  cutting  and  burn- 
"  i//^;  for  these  operations  are  usefully  employed  by 
"  those  vjho  are  sick  and  those  nuho  are  voell.  Net- 
*'  ther  is  death  an  absolute  evil ;  because  it  is  some- 
*'  ti77ies  preferred  to  life  by  the  brave  ;  nor  health, 
*'  or  sickness,  riches,  or  any  other  seeming  advan- 
*'  tage;  because  they  are  often  of  no  real  use. ''^ 


OF    THE    STOICS.  217 

**  liappens  according  to  the  nature  of  Uic  universe. 

*'  Take  away  opinion,"  he  says  (Lib.  iv.  sect.  7.) 

'  and  complaint  is  removed.     Whatever  docs  not 

"  make  a  man  worse,  or  his  conduct  worse,  cannot 

*'  injure  him  internally  or  externally."     And  a- 

gain,  (Lib.  vii.  cap.  14.)  "  If  I  do  not  consider  a- 

*'  ny  thing  that  befalls  me  as  an  evil,  I  am  not  in- 

"  jured,  and  it  depends  upon  myself  ^^lled^er  I  think 

*'  so  or  not.     How  easy,"  says  he,  (Lib.  v.  sect.  2.) 

"  to  remove  every  imagination  that  is  troublesome 

*'  or  inconvenient,  so   as  to  preserve  the  mind  in 

"  perfect  tranquility.     In  pain  (Lib.  viii.  cap.  28.) 

"  the  soul   may  preserve   its  tranquility,  and  not 

*•  think  it  to  be  an  evil.     Every  thing  of  the  nature 

''  of  opinion,  inclination,  and  appetite,  is  within  us, 

•'  where  nothing  that  is  evil  can   come.     Remove 

'*  imagination,"  he  says,  addressing  himself",  and 

"  it  is  in  my  power  that  no  vice,  no  irregular  de- 

*^  sire,  no  perturbation,  exist  in  my  mind  ;   but,  re- 

*•  garding  every  thing  as  it  really  is,  to  make  use  of 

*' it  according  to   its  value.     Remember  that  this 

*  power  is  given  to  you  by  nature.     So  Epictetus 

says  (sect.  30.)  "  No  person  can  hurt  you  unless 

*'  you  will.     Then  only  are  you  injured,  when  you 

*'  think  you  are  so." 

In  a  more  particular  manner  they  made  light  of 

everv" 


218  OF    THE     nilLOSOPHY 

even^  tiling  tliat  afllctcd  the  body  only,  for  which,  as 
consisting  of  brute  niatt-.r,  ihcv  professed  the  great- 
est contempt,  as  if  it  had  borne  no  relation  w  hatc- 
vcr  to  the  mind,  w  hich  they  considered  as  the  only 
proper  seat  of  good  or  evil,  true  pleasure  or  pain. 
**  Nothing,"  says  Marcus  Antoninus,  (Lib.  iv. 
sect.  39.)  "that  is  an  evil  to  you,  deper.ds  upon 
"  any  change  that  takes  place  in  that  in  Avhicli  vou 
*'  are  inclosed.  If  ihc  body  be  cut,  burned,  or 
"  putrefy,  only  let  that  j)ari:  of  a  man  v/hich  forms 
"  its  opinion  concerning  it  be  at  rest,  that  is, 
••'  not  consider  diat as  good  or  e\il,  uhieh  may  hap- 
*'  pen  either  to  good  or  bad  men.  For  whatever 
"  happens  aUke  to  him  that  lives  agreeably  to  na- 
"  ture,  or  contrary  to  it,  is  a  matter  of  incliflference. 
*'  Vou  may  pass  your  life  (Lib.  vii.  sect,  (i^,)  willi- 
"  out  injury,  and  with  the  greatest  cheerfulness, 
*'  though  \\  ild  beasts  tear  the  limbs  of  the  body 
**  that  surrounds  you ,  and  adheres  to  yor." 

The  language  in  which  diey  sometimes  express 
this  indifference  to  the  body  is  amusing,  and  might 
have  been  said  by  way  of  ridicule  of  their  system. 
"  Pain,"  says  Marcus  Antoninus,  (Lib.  viii.  sect. 
28.)  "  is  an  evil  to  the  body.  li  it  is  so,  let  die  bo- 
*'  d}-  look  to  it.  As  to  tlie  limbs  of  die  body,  (Lib. 
•'  vii.  sect.  33.)  ifdiey  be  in   pain,  let  them  take 

"  ciu-c 


Of     THE    STOICS.  219 

•'  care  of  it,  if  they  ean  do  any  thing."  Again 
(Lib.  Kii.  sect.  1.)  "  Let  the  f^esh  v>ith  which  yon 
"  are  surrounded  mind  its  own  sufferings."  **  U 
"  the  reason,"  sfiys  Epictetus  (sect.  18.)  "  forebode 
**  any  ill,  immediately  reply,  it  may  be  to  your  bo- 
*'  dy,  your  reputation,  your  children,  or  your  wife. 
"  Every  thing  fortunate  is  intended  forme,  if  I 
''  please.  For  ^\hatever  happens  to  me,  is  in  my 
"  power,  and  I  may  deri^'e  advantage  from  it." 

However, besides  this  great  sheet  anchor,  as  it  may 
be  called,  of  the  Stoics,  by  ^vhich  they  procured  their 
tranquility  in  all  the  storms  of  life,  viz.  their  idea 
of  the  absolute  independence  of  the  mmd  upon  eve- 
ry thing  external  to  it,  and  its  sufficiency  for  its  own 
happiness,  they  occasionally  mention  other  consi- 
derations not  peculiar  to  themselves,  some  ofm.ore, 
and  some  of  less,  weiglit.  Among  others,  Marcus 
Antoninus  says,  (Lib.  vii.  sect.  33.)  "  If  pain  con- 
"  not  be  borne,  it  will  cease,  and  if  it  be  of  long 
*'  continuance,  it  may  be  borne  ;  and  in  the  mean 
"  time  the  mind,  by  means  of  its  opinion,  may 
*'  preserve  its  tranquility." 

Another  of  his  resources  is  not  so  reasonable. 
"  Think  with  yourself,"  he  says  (Lib.  viii.  sect. 
36.)    "  that  nothing  past  or  future,   but  only  that 

"  which 


220  OF    THE     PHILOSOPHY 

"  vvhicli  is  present  can  be  the  cause  of  uneasiness 
"  to  you."  This  is  by  no  means  true  with  respect 
to  beings  capable  of  reflection,  %vhose  happiness  or 
misery  nccessuiily  depends  much  more  on  the  past 
and  the  future  than  on  die  present  moment.  It  is 
only  a  brute,  or  a  child,  to  w  Inch  this  observation  is 
applicable,  nor  even  to  them  completely,  or  long. 

One  rule  of  Epictetus,  however,  istmly  valua- 
ble, if  it  could  be  applied.  But  the  Stoics  always 
imagined  that  much  more  was  in  their  pow  cr  than 
really  was  so.  "  Do  not  (sect.  8.)  seek  to  find  things 
"  as  you  w  ish  them  to  be,  but  wish  for  that  w  hich 
"  actually  is,  and  you  will  pass  your  life  in  tranqui- 
"  lity."  The  great  difficulty  in  this  case  (but  to 
this  the  Stoics  gave  no  attention)  is  in  the  appKcati- 
on  of  such  a  rule ;  and  other  principles,  out  of  the 
sphere  of  their  philosophy,  but  comprehended  in 
those  of  Christianity,  are  necessar}'  to  assist  us  in 
this. 

This  great  excellence  of  character,  which  raises 
some  men  so  much  above  the  lc\el  of  their  species, 
and  w  hich  rendered  them  superior  to  all  the  e\  ils 
of  life,  and  also  to  the  fear  of  death,  the  Stoics  a- 
scribcd  wholly  to  philosophy  ;  so  that  it  required 
much  study  and  reflection  to  attain  it,  though  af- 
terwards the  exercise  of  it  was  easy.     "  The  time 

*'  of 


OF    THE     STOICS.  221 

"  of  liurnan  life,"  says  Marcus  Antoninus  (Lib. 
ii.  sect.  17.)  "  is  a  point;  nature  is  in  a  continual 
"  flux,  the  senses  are  obscure,  the  body  liable  to 
"  corruption,  &.c.  &c.  the  only  thing"  (that  is  of 
value)  "  is  philosophy,  which  consists  in  preserv- 
"  ing  the  mind  intire,  superior  to  pleasure  or  pain, 
*'  self-sufiicicnt,  having  nothing  to  do  with  what 
*'  others  do  or  do  not  do,  and  receiving  the  things 
"  that  befall  them  as  coming  from  tlie  same  source 
"  with  themselves.'"  "  It  is  a  mai'k,"  says  Epic- 
tetus  (sect.  48.)  "  of  the  common  people  to  look 
*'  for  loss  or  gain  from  what  is  external  to  them, 
*'  but  the  philosopher  expects  nothing  but  from 
"  himself.  The  proof  that  he  is  a  philosopher,  is, 
"  that  he  censures  no  person,  commands  no  per- 
*'  son,  complains  of  no  man,  never  boasts  of  him- 
"  self,  as  a  person  of  any  consequence.  If  he  meets 
"  with  obstacles  from  his  acquaintance  he  blames 
"  only  himself  If  any  person  praise  him  he  laughs 
"  at  him,  and  if  he  be  censured  he  does  not  excuse 
*'  himself."  &c. 

If  only  such  persons  as  these  be  philosophers, 
they  will  never  be  very  numerous.  Indeed,  we 
must  not  look  for  them  among  men^  not  even  those 
who  make  the  greatest  profession  and  boast  of  this 
very  philosophy  ;  because  it  could  not  be  in  their 

power 


222  OF   THE   piiiLosoniY 

power  to  divest  themselves  of  tlie  common  princi- 
ples of  human  nature.  A\'c  sec,  however,  in  these 
extremely  absurd  maxims,  liow  fiy  metaphysical 
or  {general  pi  ineiples  can  carry  men,  at  least  in  spe- 
culation ;  and  therefore  of  what  impoi-timce  it  is  to 
form  just  ones,  agreeable  to  the  real  principles  of 
human  nature  ;  for  such  only  can  lead  to  the  pro- 
per duty  and  happiness  of  man. 

That  die  Stoics,  however,  found  more  difficulty 
than  they  were  w  illing  in  general  to  allow,  in  re- 
ducing dieir  maxims  to  practice,  appears  from  dieir 
frequently  inculcating  die  neccssit}-  of  having  pro- 
per rules,  or  remedies,  at  hand  for  every  ease  that 
might  occur.  "  As  surgeons,"  says  Marcus  An- 
toninus(Lib.  iii.  sect.  13.)"  have  their  instruments 
**  ready  for  c\ery  operation,  so  have  you  your  niax- 
"  ims  ready,  by  the  help  of  which  you  may  distin- 
"  guish  divine  and  human  things,"  meaning  pro- 
bably things  within  our  power,  and  those  that  were 
out  of  it.  "  There  is  no  retirement  (Lib.  iv.  sect. 
"  3.}  so  complete  as  that  into  one's  own  mind,espe- 
"  cially  if  it  be  -^W  stored  w  idi  maxims,  by  the  con- 
"  sideration  of  which  it  may  attain  perfect  tranquili- 
"  ty.  And  by  diis  means  it  is  in  a  mim's  power  to 
*'  remove  e\ery  cause  of  uneasiness."  "  WMiate- 
"  ver  occurs  to  you,"  says  Epictetus  (sect.  10.) 

"  have 


OF    THE    STOICS.  223 

*'  have  some  principle  ready  to  oppose  to  it.  If 
*'  you  see  a  beautiful  boj''  or  girl,  have  recoui'se  to 
**  coiitiiieiice,  if  labour  the  enduring  of  it,  if  re- 
*'  proach  patience.  By  this  means  appearances 
*'  will  not  mislead  you."  "  In  pain  let.  this  consi- 
"  deration  be  at  hand,"  says  Marcus  Antoninus, 
(Lib.  vii.  sect.  64.)  "  tliat  it  is  not  disgraceiiil,  or 
"  makes  the  governing  power"  (the  mind)  "  atalithe 
*'  \."orse,  and  that  nothing  that  is  either  material,  or 
*'  that  relates  to  other  persons,  ean  injure  it." 

Hov»-  gi-eatly  superior,  and  how  much  better  a- 
dapted  to  the  real  principles  of  human  nature,  and 
the  common  feelings  of  men,  are  the  consolations  of 
our  religion,  to  those  of  this  philosophy  !  In  the 
scriptures  the  idea  of  the  Di\  ine  Being  is  that  of  the 
universal  parent,  our  father  in  heaven,  who  never 
afflicts  his  children  but  for  their  benefit.  He  docs 
not-t  we  read,  afflict  will'mgly^  nor  grie'ses  the  di'ildren 
of  men.  Tea  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children^  the 
Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him.  He  knoweth  their 
frame  and  remembers  that  they  are  dust.  \Vith  re- 
spect to  the  wicked,  he  is  represented  as  forbearing 
to  punish  with  severit}',  waiting  for  their  repentance 
and  reformation,  which  is  the  sole  object  of  the  dis- 
cipline to  which  they  are  exposed ;  not  being  wil- 
ling  that  any  slioidd  perish^  but  that  all  should  come 
to  repentance,  P.  These 


224  OF     THK     PHILOSOPHY 

These  sentiments  are  such  as  all  men  may  feel 
the  force  of,  and  are  therefore  adapted  to  common 
lii>e.  Chris'.ianity  also  holds  out  a  sufficient  re- 
ward for  all  our  sufferings,  \vhcn  they  are  borne  with 
a  p roper •  tc mper ;  and  of  this  the  Stoics  t^ULjht  no- 
thing. Afji'ic lions y  as  the  apostle  siij's,  arc  not  joyous 
but  griewus^  v.o'ccrtheless  they  work  out  for  us  a  far 
fnorc  exceeding,  even  an  eternal  weJg/it  of  glory  ; 
luhlle  they  make  us  to  look  not  at  :Jk  things  that  are 
seen^  \\:h'ich  are  temporary^  but  at  the  things  that  are 
unseen,  "[^liich  arc  eternal. 

It  is  not  among  the  Stoic?,  or  any  heathens,  that 
\\e  must  look  for  such  truly  consoling  sentiments  as 
these.  With  these  helps,  christians  are  enabled 
to  endure  affliction  not  only  with  patience,  which 
was  all  that  the  Stoics  pretended  to,  but  with  joy: 
and  accordingly  the  apostles  exhort  their  fellow 
christians  to  rejoice  in  tribulation  ;  in  every  thing  to 
give  thanks.  Count  it  ell  joy  says  the  apostle  James^ 
(Chap.  i.  V.  2.)  when  ye  fall  into  divers  trials; 
knowing  that  the  trial  of  your  faith  worketh  pati- 
ence.  But  let  patience  hai}C  her  per fi.  ct  work,  that 
you  may  be  perfect  and  inti  e,  wanting  nothing — 
(\'.  12.)  Blessed  is  the  man  tiiat  endureth  tempt a- 
lion  :  for  when  lie  is  tried  he  shall  receive  tlie  crown 
of  life f  which  the  Lord  has  promised  to  them  that 
lo'-ce  him.  Section' 


OF    THE    STOICS.  225 


Section  V. 
Of  Death. 

Of  all  the  evils  of  life  death  is  the  natural  termi- 
nation  ;  but  it, is  likewise  the  same  with  respect  to 
all  the  enjoyments  of  it,  and  what  is  more,  of  all 
our  future  hopeSy^  if  we  have  nothing  to  look  to  be- 
yond it.  On  this  account  it  has  always  been  clas- 
sed in  the  catalogue  of  the  c'Gih  to  which  men  are 
subject,  and  one  from  which  no  man,  whatever  may 
have  been  his  rank  or  situation  in  life,  can  be  ex- 
empt. 

The  apprehension  of  this  universal  catastrophe 
would  oppress  the  mind  much  more  than  it  gene- 
rally does,  if  the  t'lme^  and  other  circumstances^  at- 
tending it  were  known  to  us.  But  these  being  un- 
known, and  uncertain,  and  all  men  having  their 
thoughts  engaged  iathe  pursuit  of  their  several  ob- 
jects, and  also  naturally  disposed  to  flatter  them- 
selves, they  seldom  think  of  death  till  the  very  near 
approach  of  it ;  and  then  they  are  often  wholly  in- 
sensible of  it ;  so  that  their  suffering  from  it  at  the 
time  is  generally  inconsiderable. 

P  2.  Still, 


226  or    THE     PHILOSOPHT 

Still,  however,  the  consideration  ol"  death  must 
often  tlirow  a  cloud  o\er  tlie  brii^htest  prospects  of 
many  men  who  reflect  en  their  situation,  and  espe- 
cially  those  \\  hose  lot  in  Hie  is  tlie  most  pleasing  to 
tliem  ;    and,   in   general,   tend  to  abate  the   san- 
guine  views  and   expectations  wi.n   wliich    per- 
sons generally  enter  upon  lil'e.     On  tliese  accounts 
a  remedy  for  the  fear  of  death  has  always  been  con. 
bidered  as  a  most  desireable  thing,  and  an  impor- 
tant article  in  religion  and  philosophy.     It  v.as  so 
more  particularly  with  the   Stoics,  as  is  evident 
from  their  frequent  mention  of  it,  and  the  \arious 
arguments   tlicy  urge  to   reconcile   the  mindb  of 
men  to  it.     Some  of  tlieni  are  valuable,  and  as  far 
as  they   go,   satisfactory  ;  especially  that  to  which 
they  have  con;>t.;nt   recourse,  as  flo^^'ing  directly 
from  the  fandamental  principle   of   tlieir  system, 
viz.  the  submission  that  we  owe  to  the  established 
order  of  nature  and  providence,  \\hich  we  cannot 
alter,  and  which  we  must  take  for  granted  is  right. 

"  To  die,"  says  Miu'cus  Antoninus  (Lib.  ii. 
sect.  11.)  'Ms  not  grievous,  since  tlicre  are  gods, 
*'  M  ho  will  not  involve  thee  in  any  thirg  that  is  evil. 
"  If  there  were  no  eods,  or  if  thev  &x\e  no  attenti. 
"  on  to  tlic  affairs  of  men,  it  would  not  be  A\orth 
**  while  to  li\e   iji  such  a  \\orld.     But  thei-e  are 

gods. 


OF    THE    STOICS.  227 

**  god.^.  ?.nd  they  do  take  care  of  human  affairs,  and 
^'  they  have  put  it  into  every  man's  power  not  to 
*'  fall  into  any  evil.  We  should  meet  death,"  he 
says  (Lib.  ii.  sect.  17.)  "  with  a  benevolent  and 
*'  placid  mind,  as  a  dissolution  of  those  elements  of 
*'  v\hich  ever}^  animal  consists.  And  if  nothing 
"  extraordinar}'  happens  to  tliese  elements,  which 
*'  are  continually  changing  into  one  anodier,  it  is 
"  no  subject  of  dread,  because  it  is  according  to 
*'  nature,  and  nothing  is  an  evil  that  is  agreeable 
**  to  nature." 

One  use  of  the  expectation  ofdcath  is  well  j^oint- 
ed  out  by  Epictetus,  "  I^et  death,"  says  he 
(sect.  21.)  "  exile,  and  every  thing  that  is  trouble- 
"  some,  be  always  present,  to  your  thoughts,  and 
*'  especially  deadi,  and  you  will  have  no  mean 
"*'  thoughts,  nor  desire  any  thing  inordinately." 

Some  of  the  Stoical  ai'gu  ments  against  the  fear 
of  death  are  not  equally  satisflictory  with  that  abo^'C 
mentioned,  especially  that  which  Marcus  Antoni- 
nus alleges  with  respect  to  evils  in  genera  ,  hough 
he  apphes  it  more  particularly  to  the  consideration 
of  death,  viz.  that  nothing  really  interests  us  besides- 
v'hat  is  actually  present.  "  In  dea:ii,"  he  says 
(Lib.  ii.  sect.  14.)  "  we  only  lose  tlie  present^ 
P  3.  "  whicb 


223  OF     THE     PHILOSOPHY 

*'  uhicli  is  the  same  to  all  persons ;  for  vhat  is  past 
*'  or  future  cannot  be  the  subject  of  life.  This 
"makes  tlie  longest  life  equal  to  the  shortest." 
Oil  this  idea  he  enlarges  in  a  manner  that  is  tiuly 
cxtiaordinar}',  in  a  man  of  genenil  good  sen^e,  and 
disposed  to  reflection.  *'  Though  you  should 
**  live,"  he  says,  "  three  thousand  yeai-s,  or  more 
**  thiui  ten  times  as  long,  you  sliould  remember 
*'  that  no  person  can  have  more  of  this  life,  or  of 
"  any  other  life,  than  he  really  has.  It  is  the  same 
<'  thing,  therefore,  whether  you  have  the  longest  or 
"  the  shortest  life,  since  the  present  is  the  same  to  all ; 
*'  so  tliat  what  is  lost  is  only  momentary." 

"  If  any  oftliegods,"  he  says  (Lib.  iv.  sect.  47.) 
*'  should  tell  you  that  you  must  die  eitlier  this  day 
"  or  the  next,  you  Avould  think  it  a  matter  of  indif- 
"  ference  \\  hich  to  chuse,  unless  you  were  tlie  most 
*'  abject  of  men.  In  hke  manner,  neither  \\oald 
**  you  think  it  of  consequence  whether  you  lived 
*'  a  thousand  years,  or  died  to-morrow.  He  who 
*'  thinks  (Lib.  xii.  sect.  35.)  that  whatever  is  season- 
"  able  is  good,  will  think  there  is  no  difference  whe- 
*'  ther  he  perform  more  or  fewer  actions  agreeable 
"  to  reason,  and  whether  he  contemplate  tlie  uni- 
*'  verse  a  longer  or  a  shorter  sj)uce  of  lime.  To 
"  him  deatli  cannot  be  formidable." 

In 


OP    THE    STOICS.  229 

In  this  sentiment,  however,  the  emperor  would 
rot  have  the  concunence  of  mankind  in  general. 
They  consider  Ufe  as  vakiable,  and  would,  therefore, 
prefer  a  longer  to  a  shorter  one ;  and  no  doubt  he 
himseli"  notwithstanding  this  reasoning,  would 
have  done  so  too,  provided  (as  we  may  presume  in 
his  case)  his  prospects,  in  the  continuance  of  life  and 
of  pO'A'er,  had  been  promising. 

What  makss  the  apprehension  of  death  distres- 
sing to  some  persons  of  a  melancholy  turn  of  mind, 
is  their  connecting  with  it  diings  that  do  not  proper- 
perly  belong  to  it ;  being  things  that  at  the  time 
they  camiot  have  any  know  ledge  or  feeling  of.  as 
the  circumstances  attending  a  funeral,  being  inclos- 
ed in  a  coffin,  being  put  under  ground,  and  there 
putrifying,  and  perhaps  devoured  by  v/orms,  Sec. 
&.C.  Oil  this  subject  the  emperor  veiy  properly 
eays  (Lib.  ii,  sect.  12.)  "If  we  separate  from 
*'  death  every  thing  that  does  not  necessarily  belong 
*'  to  it,  and  which  usually  m:ike  it  an  object  of  ter- 
*'  ror,  there  is  nothing  in  it  bat  the  work  of  na- 
*'ture;  and  whoever  dreads  any  thing  in  nature 
"  is  a  child.  But  death  is  not  only  the  work  of  na- 
*'  ture,  but  a  thing  that  is  of  use  in  the  system  of 
*'  nature,  and  it  is  in  a  man's  power  to  consider 

P  4.  *'  tlic 


230  OF    THE     PHILOSOPHY 

*'  the  relation  that  the  principal  part  of  him  bears  to 
*'  God,  and  what  is  to  he  tlic  condition  of  that 
"  part  when  it  shall  be  released  from  the  body." 

In  this  he  alludes  to  the  jjliilosophical  principle 
ofthe  absoq^tion  of  all  hiferior  intelligences  into 
tlie  great  uni^'ersal  intelligence.  But  neither  he, 
or  any  other  heathen  philosopher,  had,  or  could 
have,  an  unshaken  belief  in  that  doctrine,  little  con- 
solation as  it  can  afford.  For  \\  hat  is  a  drop  of  u  a- 
ter  (which  is  their  usual  comparison)  when  absorb, 
ed  in  the  ocean  ! 

Besides,  tlie  Stoics  as  well  as  all  tlie  other  philo- 
sophers often  express  doubts  on  the  subject ;  like 
Socrates,  putting  the  supposition,  that  death  is  ei- 
tlier  an  entire  dispersion  of  all  the  elements  of 
which  man  consists,  which  puts  a  period  to  all  con- 
sciousness, or  that  absorption  of  the  soul  into  the 
soul  of  the  uni^•crse  which  puts  an  end  to  all  sepa- 
rate individual  consciousness,  and  which  caimot 
be  vers'  different  from  it.  "  If,"  says  Marcus  An- 
toninus (Lib.  vi.  sect.  10.)  "  every  thing  is  to  be 
^*  dissipated,  why  should  I  diink  of  any  thing  but 
*'  being,  some  way  or  other,  reduced  to  earth ;  and 
**  why  should  I  be  disturbed  at  this  ?  Do  wliat  I 
*'  will,   tliis  dispersion  will  come  some  time  or 

*'  otlier 


or    THE    STOICS.  231 

**  other.  If  after  death  (Lib.  iii.  sect.  3.)  you  be 
"  deprived  of  all  sense,  j-^oii  w'lW  likewise  lose  all 
*'  sense  of  pleasure  and  pain.  You  will  then  cease 
*'  to  be  a  slave  to  the  worst  part  of  yourself.  But 
"  is  not  that  which  was  enslaved  the  better  part  of 
"  you,  when  the  one  is  intellectual  and  a  genius, 
*'  and  the  other  mild  and  corruption?  Wait  your 
*<  death  (Lib.  v.  sect.  33.)  with  ti-anquility,  whe- 
*'  ther  it  be  an  extinction  of  being,  or  a  removal. 
*'  Till  that  time  come,  be  content  to  worship  die 
*'  gods,  to  do  good  to  men,  to  bear  with  them,  and 
*'  keep  at  a  distance  from  them,  remembering  tliat 
*'  every  thing  foreign  to  yourself  is  neither  yours, 
*'  nor  in  your  poWer." 

This  supposition  of  the  two  possible  consequen- 
ces of  death,  so  frequent  with  the  heathen  philoso- 
phers, and  with  the  Stoics  as  mu<:h  as  any  other, 
certainly  shews  an  unsteadiness  of  opinion  on  the 
subject,  and  that  little  consolation  was  in  fact  d^ 
rived  from  it.  No  such  uncertainty  is  expressed 
by  Jesus,  the  apostles,  or  any  christian.  With 
them  the  belief  of  a  resurrection  was  as  unshaken 
as  that  of  death,  and  it  operated  accordingl}',  re- 
lieving them  from  all  anxiety  on  the  subject,  and 
enabling  them  e\erto  rejoice  in  the  prospect  of  ex- 
ehanging  this  life  for  a  better. 

P5.  On 


2C2  OF    THE     PHILOSOPHY 

On  the  subject  o[  sd/jnunkr,  the  Stoics  seem  to 
have  had  no  settled  opinion,  some  times  main*.c'.in- 
ing,  as  the  emperor  seems  to  do,  tiiat  it  is  the  duty 
of  every  man  to  remain  in  tlic  station  in  ^'  hich  pro- 
vidence hr.s  placed  him,  till  he  receives  an  order 
from  tlie  same  power  to  quit  it,  by  ^\hich  must 
be  meant,  something  foreign  to  a  man's  own  a\  ill, 
or  inclination,  as  by  disease,  or  violence.  But  if 
ve  judge  by  the  practice  of  scm::  ufthe  most  dis- 
tinguished ofthe  sect,  as  that  of  Zer.o  himself,  Pla- 
to, and  others,  they  considered  it  as  an  act  of  great 
heroism,  especially  becoming  a  man  who  must  o- 
tlierwise  live  in  ignominy ;  notwithstanding  their 
maintaining  at  other  times,  that  neither  praise  nor 
blame,  servitude  or  exile,  being  things  foreign  to 
a  man's  self,  ought  to  give  him  any  uneasiness. 

Marcus  Antoninus  himself  expresses,  though 
somewhat  obscurely,  his  approbation  of  self  mur- 
der. "If  you  must  die  (Lib.  v.  sret.  29.)  let  it 
"be  as  those  who  have  suffered  nothing.  If  the 
"  smoke  be  troublesome,  I  leave  it.  Why  should 
"  this  appear  of  consequence  to  any  person  ?  But 
"  nothing  compels  me  to  depart.  I  rcn^ove  irce- 
"  l}-^,  since  no  person  can  hinder  me  from  doing 
"  what  I  please.  It  is  my  \\\s\\  to  do  what  belongs 
**  to  a  m.ui  enddcd  willi  reason,  and  born  lor  socie- 


OF    THE    STOICS.  233 

<*  ty.'*  This  allusion  to  his  quitting  a  smoky- 
house,  looks  like  a  voluntary  act ;  the  compulsion 
being  very  inconsiderable,  since  a  smoky  house  is 
tolerable  though  not  pleasant. 

The  amount  of  all  these  philosophical  remedies 
against  the  fear  of  death,  is  nothing  more  than  a  pati- 
ent acquiescence  in  what  is  unavoidable,  and  what 
must  be  taken  for  granted  is  right,  with  respect  to 
the  \\hole  system  of  ^^•hich  we  are  a  part :  deadi,  as 
well  as  birth,  being  included  in  it.  The  same  ar- 
gument applies  to  the  deprivation  of  any  thing  that 
men  \'alue,  as  health,  riches,  pleasure,  pov.er,  Sec. 
&c.  but  wliat  can  prevent  our  regret  at  the  loss  of 
them,  if  we  really  value  them  ?  and  is  not  life  a 
thing  that  all  men  value,  and  consequently  must 

they  not  naturally  part  with  it,  as  -well  as  other 
things,  with  regret,  when  they  can  retain  it  no  long- 
er, and  have  no  prospect  of  any  equivalent  for  the 
loss,  which  must  have  been  the  case  with  the  hea- 
then world  ?  This  is  certainly  the  language  of  na- 
ture ;  and  if  philosophers  say  any  thing  to  the  con- 
traiy ,  as  the  Stoics  do,  it  is  a  proof  diat  their  prin- 
ciples are  not  agreeable  to  nature,  and  therefore 
false,  and  their  topics  of  consolation  under  afHicti- 
on,  and  in  the  prospect  of  death,  are  not  adapted  to 
the  nature  and  condition  of  man. 

How 


234  OF    THE     PIIILOSOniY' 

How  unspeakably   more  natural,  and  therefor© 
more  cITicacious,  and  valuable,  is  the  consolation 
that  Christianity  holds  out  to  a  dying  man,  who  is 
conscious  that  he  has  lived  a  virtuous  life  !     It  is 
not  the  gloomy  consolation  of  the  dispersion  of  the 
elements  of  w  hich  his  body  consists,  and  never  to 
be  collected  again,  or  the  rc-union  of  his  soul  to 
tliat  of  the  whole  universe,  from  m  Iiieh  he  cannot 
conceive  any  source  of  joy  to  himself  individually, 
and  of  w  hich,  indeed,  he  cannot  form  an.y  distinct 
idea ;  but  the  exchaiige  of  this  ll^j  for  a  better,  a 
state  in  which  he  will  not  be  subject  to  sickness  or 
pain,  and  in  vhich  he  will  not  die  any  more,  but 
continue  in  existence  without  end ;  and  this  not 
mere  existence,  but  a  life  of  the  truest  enjoyment, 
the  enjoyment  of  things  which  the  apostle  says,  eye 
hath  iiGt  seen,  nor  ear  heard ^  and  such  as  it  has  not 
entered  into  the  mind  of  man  to  conceive.     AV'idi  this 
prospect,  certain  and  glorious,  tliough  not  distinct 
and  particular,  mcII  may  the  christiim  siiy  in  dying, 
0  death  where  is  thy  sting,  0  grave  ivliere  is  tliy 
victory  /     That  christians  cf  eveiy^  denomination 
actually  believe  this,  and  that  this  is  the  most  es- 
sential and  uniuestionuble  article  of  tl.cir  faith, 
cannot  be  denied  ;   and  this  firm  fiith  accounts. 
in  the  most  suti.,factory  mimner,  not  only  for  the 

calm 


OF    THE     STOICS. 


235 


calm  -resignation,  which  is  all  that  the  Stoics  pre- 
tend to,  but  the  joy  with  which  thousands  of  chris- 
tians have  met  death,  and  even  endured  the  ^eatcst 
tortures  that  could  be  inflicted  upon  them,  rather 
than  renounce  their  faith. 

Had  Marcus  Antoninus  been  acquainted  with 
tlic  sentiments  of  christians  on  this  subject,  he 
couIl.  not  have  called  their  refusal  to  In'e  on  the 
terms  that  he  proposed  to  them  obstinacy^  because 
it  had  a  natural  and  real  foundation,  the  bearing  of 
an  evil  of  short  continuance,  however  severe,  for  a 
degree  of  happiness  that  would  be  an  abundant  re 
compence  for  it. 

The  Stoics,  indeed,  held  out  as  v/e  have  seen  a 
kind  of  immortality  to  man,  in  those  great  revoluti- 
ons, to  which  tliey  supposed  that,  at  certain  periods, 
every  thing  in  nature  would  be  subject,  so  that  as 
cverv  thing  had  once  been  in  the  very  state  in 
which  it  now  is,  it  will  sometime  hence  revert  to 
the  very  same,  and  so  \\ithout  end,  and  without  a- 
ny  improvement.  But  besides  that  this  notion, 
which  is  also  entertained  by  the  Hindoos,  and  pro- 
bably came  into  Greece  from  the  East,  is  destitute 
of  all  foundation,  and  could  hiudly  be  seriously^ 
believed  by  any  man,  how  inferior  is  it  to  that 
'kind  of  immortality  tliat  chiistians  are  taught  to 

expect. 


236  OF    THE     fHILOSOPHY 

expect !  A  state  of  existence  that  w  ill  not  only 
have  no  end,  but  that  w  ill  be  continually  improv- 
ing; an  idea  most  sublime  and  transporting,  and 
vdhichib  countenanced  even  by  present  appearances, 
as  we  actually  obscne  the  state  of  mankind,  and  of 
every  thing  wc  see,  to  be  in  a  st;ite  of  improvement. 

Compared  \\  ith  the  cold  indifilrence,  (and  this 
no  doubt  in  a  gi'eat  measure  affected)  ^\'ith  which 
Marcus  Antoninus  speaks  of  meeting  death,  how 
short  does  i:  fall  of  the  joy,  and  even  rapture,  with 
■which  the  apostle  Paul  speaks  of  his  approaching 
end!  (2.  Tim.  c.  iv.  v.  6.)  /  am  no\v  rcfat/y to 
be  offered,  and  the  time  of  my  departure  is  at  hand, 
I  have  fought  the  good  fight.  I  ha'ce  finished  my 
course.  I  have  kept  the  faith.  Henceforth  there 
is  laid  up  fior  me  a  cro\vn  ofi  righteousness,  ivhich 
the  Lord,  the  righteous  judge,  shall  give  me  at  that 
day  ;  arid  not  to  me  only,  hut  unto  all  them  also  that 
love  his  appearing.  What  an  idea  does  tliis  gi\e 
us  of  the  infinite  superiority  of  the  principles  of 
Christianity  to  those  of  heathen  philosophy  of  every 
kind ! 

The  probability  is,  that  Marcus  Antoninus  held 
the  christians  (few  of  whom  pretended  to  any  know- 
ledge of  philosophy)  in  too  great  contempt  to  make 
any  proper   inquiry  uito  their  sentiments,  or  to 

read 


or   THE   STOICS.  237 

l^ad  their  writings.  He  had  learned,  he  saj-s, 
(Lib.  i.  sect.  6.)  '*  of  Diognctus  not  to  spend  his 
^'  time  about  trifles,  nor  to  give  credit  to  those  who 
**  dealt  in  inchantments  and  exorcisms,  and  other 
**  impostures  of  that  nature."  And  being  under 
the  influence,  as  he  evidently  was,  of  the  Greek  phi- 
losophers, cad  taking  all  his  lessons  from  them,  he 
was  no  doubt,  targht  to  believe  that  all  die  miracles 
the  clu-Jstians  nretendcd  to,  as  the  foundation 
of  theii-  religion,  were  no  better  founded  than  such 
inchantineiits  and  exorcisms  as  many  of  the  hca- 
diens  also  pretended  to. 

So  educated  and  instructed,  he  could  not  have 
any  proper  idea  of  the  firm  faith  and  hope  of  chris- 
tians, which,  without  any  aid  of  speculative  philo- 
sophy, enabled  them  to  bear,  v.ith  what  he  calls ob- 
st'mdcy^  all  the  tortures  that  he,  in  so  unrelenting  a 
manner,  ordered  to  be  inflicted  upon  them.  What 
could  his  boasted  philosophy  do  in  comparison 
with  tliis  ?  Thus  was  the  wisdom  of  this  worlds  with 
every  advantage  that  time  and  reflection  could 
give  it,  mere  fooUjhness,  as  the  apostle  called  it, 
compared  with  the  simple  doctrines  of  Christianity, 
which  were  intelligible  andefl&cacious  with  the  lo\\'- 
cst,  and  least  exercised  understanding,  as  well  as 
the  highest.     Indeed,  the  admirable  plainness,  and 

as 


238  OF    THE    PHILOSOPHY 

as  well  as  superior  excellence  of  its  principles,  le- 
vels all  distinctions  of  this  and  of  every  other  kind. 
To  the  poor  the  gospel  is  preached,  as  well  as  to  the 
rich  ;  and  it  is  e^qually  intelligible  to  them.  Ac- 
cording to  the  gospel,  as  in  die  eye  of  God,  all  men 
are  equal.  It  is  conferred  as  a  conimon  blessing 
on  all  his  ofispring  of  manliind. 

But  ^\  ith  this  excellent  religion  Marcus  Antoni- 
niiswas  unacquainted,  and  from  his  pride  as  a 
philosopher,  \\\\\d\  is  sufficiently  conspicuous  in 
his  w  1  itings,  his  contempt  of  the  «tTu  doctrine  of 
christians,  who  made  no  account  of  his  philoso- 
phy, or  any  other,  his  zeal  for  the  welfare  of  die  em- 
pire, at  the  head  of  which  he  was  placed,  and  on 
which  his  glory  depended,  which,  Avidi  iill  odier 
heathens,  he  imagined  to  have  some  unknown  con- 
nection \vith  the  observance  of  those  antient  rites,  in 
which  the  christiiuis  refused  to  join,  he  might, 
without  any  particular  cruelty  in  his  disposition, 
direct  the  persecution  ^\'hich  continued  during  the 
whole  of  his  reign.  It  is  farther  probable  diat  he 
only  hcaixl  of  the  sufferings  of  the  christians 
through  die  unllivourable  accounts  of  his  officers, 
who  would  naturally  be  disposed  to  ridicule,  and 
make  light  of  them,  and  to  flatter  him  with  respect 
to  the  success  of  his  measures.     And  Uius,  w  iUi- 

out 


QF     THE    STOICS. 


23b 


out  hearkening  to  any  remonstrance  or  intreat}^ 
m\d  resisting,  as  his  philosophy  t  lught  him  to  do, 
every  motion  of  compassion,  which  he  might  think 
was  farther  unbecoming  him  as  an  emperor,  he 
might  persist  as  he  did  without  remorse,  in  those 
rigorous  proceedings  as  long  as  he  lived.  He  had 
less  knowledge  of  Christianity  than  Julian,  and 
therefore  less  guilt;  as  in  all  respects  he  was  a 
fRUch  superior  character. 


Q.  TH5 


2tG 


T  Vt  E 

flllLOSOPIIY 

ARHIAN  AND  SENECA. 


INTRODUCTION. 

jjfEXiXA  and  An-ian  were  both  men  of  the 
world,  and  statesmen;  the  former  tutor  to  Nero, 
and  the  latter  diatliiq-uibhed  by  the  most  honoura- 
blc  employments  under  Adrian,  and  the  succeed- 
\\v^  emperors.  But  both  of  thcni  were  great  wri- 
ters, and  both  made  profession  of  the  Stoic  philo- 
sophy. Arriln  was  a  disciple  of  Epictctus,  and 
the  Enchiridion  was  com.posed  by  him  from  the 
sayinp;sof  his  master.  Seneca  appears  to  have  been 
well  acquainted  with  all  the  sects  of  tlie  Greek  phi- 
losophy, and  he  particularly  quotes  a  great  num- 
ber of  the  sayin.i^s  of  Epicurus,  but  he  preferred 
the  philosophy  of  the  Stoics  to  any  otlier. 

"  Otl^ers,"  he  says  (De  Const.  Sap.  c.  1.)  "  pro- 
"  eecd  in  a  gentle  maimer,  but  the  Stoics  endea- 

"  your 


OF   THE   ::toics. 


^41 


*'  voiir  to  raise  men  at  on-^e  to  the  hij^hcst  pitch 
"  of  excellence."  This  philosophy,  indeed,  may  be 
said  to  have  been  the  greatest  effort  of  human  ge- 
nius on  the  important  suhjcct  o[  rel'g ion  and  mo- 
rals^ in  \\hich  the  proper  conduct  of  life,  under  all 
the  evils  of  it,  and  the  prospect  of  death,  subjects  so 
highly  interesting  to  all  men,  ai-c  particularlv  in- 
sisted upon.  I  have,  however,  chosen  to  give  the 
details  of  it  from  Marcus  Antoninus  and  Epicte- 
tus,  rather  than  from  ScMicca  or  Arrian,  because 
the  former,  not  being  writers  by  profession,  as  we 
may  consider  the  others  to  have  been,  mav  be  sup- 
posed to  have  expressed  their  sentiments  without 
exaggeration ;  so  that  v,'G  are  in  less  danger  of  being 
misled  by  any  thing  like  oratory  in  their  ^vorks. 
Some  valuable  illustrations,  howe\cr,  of  the  Stoi- 
cal principles  will  be  found  in  the  Vvritlngs  of  Sene- 
ca and  Arrian,  and  expressed  with  more  empha- 
sis, for  which  we  may  m.ahc  what  allowance  we 
think  proper. 

Section   I. 

0/  God  and  Pro^oidence* 

The  Stoics  strictly  followed  Socrates  in  the  be- 
lief of  the  being,  and  of  the  v.ise  and  benevolent 
Q  2.  provi- 


24i^  OF     THE     PHIIOSOPHV 

providci.cc,  of  a  sij'>rcmt'  intelligence,  whether  it 
resided  in  one  suLject  or  many.  Indeed,  on  thi«r 
ail  their  di'jtinguihhing  maxima,  Cbpeeially  that  of 
the  soul  of  man  being  a  portion  of  this  intelligence, 
njid  retaining-  its  pov.  ers,  depended.  Other  philo- 
sophers held  viirious  opinions  on  this  subject.  .'Vr- 
rian  gives  the  following  account  of  them. 

*'  Concerning  the  gods,"  he  siiys,  (Lib.  i.  cap. 
12.)  "some  say  there  arc  no  gods ;  others  that  they 
"  exist,  but  take  no  care  of  any  thing  ;  others  that 
*'  they  exist,  but  take  no  care  of  any  besides  ce- 
"  ICvStial  tilings  ;  others  thut  ihey  attend  both  to 
*'  celestial  and  tenestriiil  things,  but  only  in  a  gcnc- 
*'  ral  V. ay  ;  others,  like  Uljsses  and  Socrates,  siiy 
*'  that  we  cannot  even  move  v»  itliout  God."  Ar- 
rian  himself  proves  the  being  of  a  god  from  the 
wonderful  frame  of  tlie  world  (Lib.  i.  cap.  C.)  He 
even  supposes  tliat  God  made  the  sini,  \\  hieh  Mar- 
cus Antoninus,  and  the  heathens  hi  general,  sup- 
posed  to  be  itself  a  deity.  "  Can  that  God  who 
"  made  the  sun,  and  guides  it,"  he  says  (Lib.  i. 
cap.  14.)  "  a  small  part  of  lus  works  compared  to 
*'  the  universe,  not  sec  all  things."  Seneca  also 
feavs  (Ep.  41.)  "  such  a  system  as  this  could  not 
"  stand  without  the  support  of  the  deity.  AV'hen 
*' } ou    are    most    alone,"  sa}s»    Arriaii  (Lib.    i. 

cap. 


'or  THE   STOICS.  243 

cap.  14.)  "  God  is  within  you  ;  your  gv-^ni- 
"  us  is  within  you.  Do  they  require  light  to 
*'  see  what  you  do  ?"  See  also  Seneca,  (Ep.  41.) 

Like  Socniiles,  the  Stoics  connected  good  mo- 
lals  with  their  regard  to  Gvjd.  Arrian  having 
mentioned  the  deity  says  (Lib.  ii.  cap.  14.)  "  such 
*'  as  the  deity  is,  such  will  be  those  who  endea- 
*'  vour  to  please  Iiim.  If  he  be  faithful,  they  will 
*'  be  so.  If  he  be  beneficent,  the}'  will  be  so.  If  he 
*'  be  magnanimous,  they  will  be  so."  He  shews 
^t  large  the  great  danger  that  would  not  fail  to  re- 
sult to  society  from  a  general  neglect  of  religion. 
*'  Then,"  says  he  (Lib.  ii.  cap.  20.)  "justice  is 
*'  nothing,  modesty  is  folly,  and  the  relation  of  (U- 
*'  ther  and  son  is  as  nothing." 

The  constant  presence,  and  assistance,  of  God 
was  thought  by  some  of  the  Stoics  to  be  necessary 
to  all  good  men.  *'  There  is  no  good  man,"  says 
Seneca  (Ep.  41.)  '*  without  God.  No  person  can 
*^  rise  above  fortune,  but  as  assisted  by  him.  It  is 
"  he  that  gives  great  and  exalted  councils.  God," 
he  says,  *'  removes  from  good  men  every  evil,  all 
**■  wickedness  ,  evil  thoughts,  blind  lust,  avarice," 
?vC.  (De  Provid*  chap.  6.)  He  did  not,  however, 
suppose  that  the  divine  guide  of  each  parti cular 
person  was  a  deity  of  the  highest  rank.  For  he 
Q  3.  sa)  »- 


244  or  THE   PHILOSOPHY 

says  (Ep.  110.)  "  Every  person  has  a  god  for  his 
"■  ^uicle,  but  one  of  an  inferior  kind."* 

'I'hc  union  of  tiiis  intelligent  principle,  which 
occasionally  descended  to  the  earth  to  the  aid  of 
men,  is  thus  expressed  by  Seneca  (Ep.  41.)  "  As 
*•  the  rays  of  the  sun  reach  to  the  earth,  but  arc 
''  still  united  to  their  source;  so  a  great  and  sa- 
**  crcd  mind,  being  sent  dow  n  hither  that  \\c  may 
"  have  d  nearer  ^'ie\v  of  divine  things,  converses 
•*  with  us,  but  adheres  to  its  original." 

It  is  not  easy  to  say  what  the  heathen  philoso- 
phers and  others  thought  oi/aic,  and  the  relation 
that  the  gods  bore  to  it.  Sometimes  tlicy  seem  to 
have  thought  that  they  directed  fate,  at  other  times 
that  fate  v.as  a  power  independent  of  them,  and  that 
controlled  them.  Seneca  seems  to  have  thought 
that  late  was  nothing  more  than  the  will  of  tlic  gods 
themselves.  "Tiieuuthoraiid  governor  of  all  things'' 
he   says  (Prov.  v.  cap.  1.)    "wrote  the  fates,  but 

"  he  Ibllows  them.     He  orders,  but  always  obeys. 

*'  Some  things  must  always  please  God  (Quaest. 

"  Nat.  Lib.   i.    pri\;f.  )  bcaiuse  the   best   things 

''  on)}-  please  liim.     Nor  is  he  on  this  account  less 

"free, 

*  T//OSC  of  this  class  of  deities  that  atlcrnkd  luo- 
saen  "wcrc  by  the  heathens  called  Juno's. 


OF     THE    STOICS.  245- 

*'  free,  or  powerful ;  for  he  is  his  own  necessity. 
"  If  this  be  not  the  cr^se,  it  would  not  be  worth 
"  while  to  be  bom." 

It  was  taken  for  granted  by  all  tl\e  later  phllo.io- 
pliers,  that  the  gods  were  incapiU^le  of  angcry  iis 
well  as  all  good  men  ;  and  the  natural  consecjucncc 
of  this  opinion  was  that  there  could  be  no  fulure 
punishment  for  the  wicked ,  which  took  awa;-  a 
great  motive  against  the  commission  of  vice. 
"  The  immortal  gods,"  says  Seneca  (Dc  Ira.  Lib. 
ii.  c.  27.)  "  neither  will  any  anger,  nor  can  indulge 
*'  in  any.  Their  nature  is  mild,  and  placid^  as  re- 
*'  mote  from  injuring  others  as  themselves.  No 
*'  man  in  his  senses"  he  says  (De  Bencf.  Lilj. 
iv.  cap.  19.)  "  fears  God,  for  it  is  madness  to  feai 
*'  what  is  salutary  ;  nor  can  any  person  lo\  c  uliat 
"  he  fears.  No  person  is  so  much  a  child  as  to  be 
*'  afraid  of  Cerberus."  And  he  joins  the  Epicu- 
reans in  their  contempt  of  every  thing  in  the  hifer- 
nal  regions.     (Ep.  24.) 

It  appears  from  the  v»'ritings  of  Arrian,  that  tlie 
common  people  among  the  heathens  were  ^^ery  re- 
ligious in  their  way.  "  No  person,"  he  says  (Lib. 
iii.  cap.  21.)  "  leaves  a  port  without  sacrificing  to 
*'  the  gods ;  nor  do  husbandmen  sow  without  in- 
Q  4.  "  yoking 


£4  ^^     TIIF.     fHILO  SOPHY 

"  yoking  Ceres.     W'ould  any  person  who  should 
*'  neglect  such  duties  be  safe  ?" 

lie  must  liavc  thought,  however,  that  such  rites 
as  these  took  thcplace  of  duties  of  more  importance, 
when  he  said  (Lib.  ii.  cap.  7.)  ''Bv  means  of  un- 
*'  seasonable  divination  many  duties  aie  neglqcW. 
♦'  ed." 


Sectiox  II. 
Of  the  Soul  of  Man,  avd  its  Power. 

We  have  seen  enough,  it  miglit  be  tliought,  of 
the  consequences  which  the  Stoics  chew  from  their 
opinion  of  the  derivation  of  the  souls  of  men  from 
the  supreme  intelligence,  in  ascribing  to  tliem  si- 
milar powers,  especially  that  of  absolute  self-suffi- 
ciency, and  a  total  independence  on  even'  thing  fo- 
reign to  itself,  even,  on  the  body,  to  ^hieh  it  is, 
hovv'e\er,  necessarily  connected  at  present.  But 
arrogant  as  is  the  language  of  Marcus  Antoninus 
and  Ej)ictctus  on  the  subject,  it  falls  short  of  tliat 
of  Seneca, 

One  ob-sious  similarity  between  God  and  man 
is  their  relation  to  matter.  *'  The  place,"  says 
Seneca  (Ep.  65.)  "  that  God  has  in  the  world,  the 

"  mind 


OF    THE    STOICS.  247 

**  mind  has  in  man.  He  works  upon  matter,  and 
*'  tl^e  mind  upon  the  body."  But  he  surely  eould 
pot  tliink  that  the  supreme  mind  was  as  necessari^ 
Jy  attached  to  the  material  system  as  to  be  aiFected 
by  every  thing  that  passes  in  it,  as  the  mind  is  by 
the  affections  of  the  body  ;  which,  though  it  may 
make  light  of  it,  has  no  power  to  free  itself.  The 
union  of  the  soul  with  the  supreme  ii^telligence, 
notwithstanding  its  present  separation  from  it,  is 
thus  maintained  by  Seneca.  "  There  is  nothing," 
he  says,  (Ep.  92.)  <*  improper  in  endeavouring  to 
"  ascend  from  whence  we  came.  Why  should 
**  we  not  think  there  is  something  divine  in  a  good 
*'  man,  since  he  is  part  of  God.  The  whole  sys, 
"  tern  is  one,  and  is  God.  We  are  his  compani- 
^*  ons,  and  members  of  him." 

To  christians,  who  believe  that  there  is  an  infi- 
nite difference  between  God  and  man  ;  and  his  in- 
finite superiority  to  us,  notwithstanding  our  being 
said  to  be  made  in  his  image ^  and  to  resemble  iiim 
in  some  respects,  the  language  of  Seneca  respect- 
ing their  equality  is  truly  shocking.  "  A  good 
"  man,"  he  says,  (De  Provid.  chap.  1.  &  2.)  '^  dif- 
*'  fers  froni  God  only  with  respect  to  time.  He  is;  hior 
*'  disciple,  his  emulator,  and  true  offspring,  whom 
*'  he  educates  ^\ith  severity,  to  prepare  him  for 
Q  5.  ''  him 


248  OF    THE    PHILOSOPHY 

**  himself;  but  no  real  evil  can  bcfal  a  good  man. 
*'  God,"  he  farther  says  (Ep.  73.)  "  is  not  superi- 
**  or  to  man  in  liappincss,  but  only  in  time  ";'  and 
*'  virtue  is  not  greater  for  being  of  longer  continu- 
"  ance."  What  he  says  above  of  God  training  up 
good  men  to  .prepare  them  for  himself  is  a  truly 
fine  sentiment,  though  connected  with  so  much 
extravagance. 

Seneca  g()es  be3'ond  Marcus  Antoninus  in  his 
boasting  of  the  all  sufficiency  of  the  mind  of  man 
with  respect  to  happiness,  and  its  independence  on 
every  thing  foreign  to  itself.  "It  is,"hcsiiys, 
(De  Consol.  ad.  Hclv.  c.  5.)  "  in  the  power  of  eve- 
• '  vy  man  to  make  himself  happy .  With  respect  to 
him.self,"  he  says,  "  I  assure  you  I  am  not  unhap- 
*'  py,  (miserum),"  and,  m.oreover,  that  I  cannot  be 
"  so  (lb.  c.  4.)  If  small  things  cannot  affect  a  wise 
*' man,  (De  Constant.  Sap.  c.  15.)  neither  can 
*'  greater  things ;  if  not  a  few,  neither  many.  I 
*'  would  persuade  you  neA'er  to  pity  a  good  man, 
*'  De  Prov.  c.  3.)  for  though  he  may  seem  to  be 
*'  miserable,  he  cannot  be  so." 

To  manv  this  would  seem  a  difficult  attainment, 

but  not  so  to  our  author.     "  What  does  reason 

*'  require  of  man,  but  the  easiest  things,  (Ep.  41.) 

<'  viz.  to  live  according  to  nature.     A  wise  man  is 

"  no 


Of     THE     STOICS.  249 

**  no  creature  of  imagination.  There  arc  many 
"  examples  of  it,  and  Cato  seems  to  have  exceed- 
"  ed  what  v/as  required  of  him."  (Dc  Const.  Sap. 
c  7. 

This  extraordinary  power,  it  is  evident,  howe- 
ver, that  Arrian  restricts  to  philosophers.  '*  Philoso- 
"  phy,"  says  he,  (Lib.  ii.  cap.  I.) ''  allows  none  to 
"  be  free,  but  those  who  have  been  instructed  (TriTra/- 
"  Sfi/ufvc/)  that  is,  God  does  not  permit  it."  Again 
he  says,  (Lib.  ii.  cap.  19.)  "  She v/ me  a  person 
*'  who  is  sick  and  happy,  in  danger  and  iiappy, 
"  dj'ing  and  happy,  banished  and  happy,  disgraced 
**  and  happy,  such  a  one  is  a  Stoic."  Bat,  sure- 
ly, such  a  one  is  rather  a  christian,  hh  source  oi 
consolation  under  the  evils  mentioned  alone,  be- 
ing infinitely  superior  to  any  that  the  Stoics  could 
have  recourse  to,  and  accessible  to  persor^s  of  the 
meanest  capacity,  such  as  they  could  ae\  cr  have 
adopted,  or  indeed  have  understood,  viz.  the 
distinction  of  things  within  the  power  of  the  mind, 
and  things  foreign  to  it,  in  the  sense  of  tlic  Stoics, 
As  to  dying  circumstances,  there  caimot,  surely, 
be  a  question  of  the  superior  happiness  of  the  eliris- 
tian,  for  reasons  obvious  enough,  and  enlarged  up- 
on in  the  preceding  scclion. 

*'  The 


^50  OF    TJIE     rUILO'SOPJlT 

The  po^\cr  of  llie  mind  o\ct  tlic  bocly  is  ralh(^ 
-Inorc  strongly  expressed  b}'  Arrian  than  by  any 
other  Stoic  writer.  *'  My  IkicK,"  he  sa^ys,  (Lib. 
iii.  cap.)  22.  "  is  not  me,  its  parts  arc  nothing  to 
•'  mc.  Death  is  nothing  to  me,  let  it  come  when 
"  it  will."  He  supposes  a  dialogue  between  a  t}'- 
rantanda  philosopher  that  is  truly  curious  for  tl>e 
extravagance  of  it.  The  tyrant  says  (Lib.  i. cap.  L) 
**  You  shall  die.""  The  philosopher  replies,  "but 
**  not  lamenting.  T.  You  shall  be  in  chains.  P. 
♦'  But  not  whining.  T.  You  shall  be  banished. 
*'  P.  But  what  hinders  my  going  laughing.  T. 
•*  Tell  me  your  secrets.  P.  No,  that  is  in  my 
'^  power.  T.  But  I  will  tlirow  }ou  into  chains. 
"  P,  What  say  you,  man?  You  may  bind  my 
-•'  feet,  but  Jupiter  himself  c^^nnot  change  my  reso- 
"  lution.  T.  I  will  throw  you  into  prison,  and 
**  strike  oif  your  head.  P.  And  did  I  ever  say 
*'  that  you  could  not  strike  it  off?  T.  I  will  kill 
"  you.  P.  When  did  I  say  that  I  \\as  immortal  ? 
*^  These  things,"  he  says,  *'  must  be  thought  of, 
"  and  meditated  upon." 

In  one  place,  however,  Arrian  seems  willing  to 
make  some  allowance  for  the  A\takness  of  human 
nature,  and  especially  on  account  of  the  necessary 
influence  of  die  body  over  the  mind.     "  If  the 

"  rods/' 


OF    THE    STOICS/  251 

**  gods,"  he  says,  (Lib.  i.  cap.  1.)  ''were  willing 
*'  to  gnint  us  the  command  of  the  thing;s  that  are 
''  out  of  our  power^tliey  could  not  do  it.  Fof 
**  while  wc  itfc  upon  tlis  earth,  and  are  tied  to  snch 
*'  bodies,  imd  sucti  compaiilofis,  ho\v  is  it  possi!)!? 
"  but  that  things  foreign  ta  us  must  be  an  impedi- 
*'  meiit  to  Ub." 

Seueca,  whose  luxurious  and  splendid  mode  of 
living  did  but  ill  con-espond  with  the  maxims  of 
his  philosophy,  and  wliose  flattery  of  the  em])croi-y 
whom  he  must  Jiave  despised,  was  fulsome  in  ilie 
extreme,  seems  disposed  to  make  still  more  allow- 
ance for  the  weakness  of  human  nature  than  any 
other  of  the  Stoics.  "  I  v/ou Id  prefer  pleasure,'' 
he  says,  (Ep.  66.)  "  to  pain  if  the  choice  was 
"  proposed  to  me,  because  the  former  is  more  a- 
"  greeable  to  nature,  and  the  latter  contrary  to  it.'^ 
But  for  the  very  same  reason,  is  not  every  thing 
tliat  men  call  good  more  agreeable  to  nature,  than 
those  that  we  agree  to  call  emils ;  and  ho\v,  on  this 
concession,  could  pleasure  and  pain  be  classed  a- 
mong  the  things  that  are  perfectly  indilFerent  to  a 
philosopher  ? 

When  his  luxurious  life  was  objected  to  him, 
he  said,  after  reciting  the  particulars  of  it.  "  These 
*^  things  are  apud  ?7i^,  (in  my  pos5Cssion)  but  at 

"  tlie 


252  OF    THE    I'HILOCOPnv 

**  the  f:ame  time  they  nrc  extra  me^  (foreign  to  me, 
"  i.  c.  to  my  mind")  (Dc  Vita,  beata.  cap.  23.}  a 
**  pretty  nice,  but  convenient  distinction."  Ac- 
cording to  him,  a  more  ingenious  acknowledg- 
mcnt  was  made  by  Plato  and  l^picurus,  when  the 
same  objection ^vas  made  to  them.  For  tliey  said, 
*'  that  men  should  hve  accordinsr  to  what  thev 
"  thought,  not  as  they  themselves  lived."  (lb  18.) 
It  Is  not  probable,  however,  that  either  of  these 
men  v.ould  have  said  this  in  earnest.  Others 
mnv  have  said  it  for  diem,  as  Jesus  did  of  die 
Scribes  and  Pharisees. 


Section  III. 

Of  Moral  Precepts. 

Arrian  has  many  excellent  moral  precepts ;  but 
as  they  are  similar  to  those  of  IVIarcus  Antoninus 
abo\'e  recited,  they  need  not  be  repeated  here.  A- 
mong  other  things  he  says,  (Lib.  ii.  cap.  6.)  "  Life 
*'  is  a  thing  indifferent,  but  not  so  die  use  of  it. 
*'  Difficulties  shew  who  arc  men.  When  you 
'*  meet  with  them  (Lib.  i.  cap.  24.)  remember 
"  that  God  is  making  you  engage  with  a  rough  and 
"  expert  antagonist.'* 

As 


or   THE   STOICS.  253 

As  the  Stoics  made  no  allowance  for  the  ialiil- 
gence  of  any  passion^  or  emotion^  which  tliey  refer- 
red to  mere  animal  nature,  tlie}-  equally  condemn- 
ed anger  and  compassion.  *'  Anger,"  says  Seneca 
(Deira  ii.  cap.  14.)  "  is  never  to  be  indulged,  but 
"  only  the  appeai^ance  of  it  to  excite  othcES  as  a 
"  spur  to  a  horse.  A  good  man  (lb.  C.)  is  inca- 
*' pable  of  inflicting  punishment ;  but  anger  is  a 
"  punishment,  and  thererorc  anger  it  not  natural." 
On  this  subject,  as  well  as  on  eve:y  other  hov/ 
much  more  natural  is  the  doctrine  of  the  scrip- 
tures, which  alms  not  at  the  extirpations  of  any  of 
our  passions,  but  only  at  the  due  regulation  of 
them.  Be  ye  angry ^  but  sin  not.  Let  not  the  sun 
go  down  upon  your  ivrat/i.  "  Compassion,"  he 
says  (Clem.  ii.  cap.  4.)  *'  is  a  vice  of  tlie  mind, 
"  in  the  view  of  the  miseries  of  others.  A  v>  ise 
"  man  will  relieve  a  person  that  weeps,  but  he  will 
•'  not  weep  with  him  (cap.  6.)  He  will  relieve  the 
*'  distressed,  but  without  feeling  compassion." 

On  the  subject  of  self  murder  AiTian  seems  ta 
be  inconsistent.  "  God,"  he  says  (Lib.  i.  cap.  29.) 
*'  requires  such  a  world  as  this,  and  those  tliat  are 
"  in  it.  If  he  order  a  retreat,  as  in  the  case  of  So- 
**  crates,  we  should  yield  obedience,  as  to  a  com- 

"  mandep 


^54  OF     THE     PHILOSOPHY 

"  mander  in  chief."  But  on  another  occasion  ho 
supposes  that  men  ha\'e  a  right  to  judge  for  them- 
selves in  this  case,  without  waiting  for  the  orders 
of  any  su  perior.  Addressing  a  discontented  per- 
son he  says,  (Lib.i.  cap.  .9)  "  You  slave, if  you  be 
"  not  satisfied,  go  out  of  life.    The  gate  is  open.'* 

Seneca  is  (juite  decided  in  favour  of  the  latter  opi- 
nion. *'  If  you  dislike  life,"  he  says  (De  Prov. 
c.  6.)  the  door  is  open.  If  you  will  not  fight,  you 
"  may  fly."  He  frequently  commends  Cato  for 
putting  im  end  to  his  own  life  :  He  even  says  (Ep. 
13.)  "  Take  away  the  sword  from  Cato,  and  you 
"  take  from  him  a  great  part  of  his  gloiy  " 

The  indifference  that  he  expressed  to  life  or  death 
would  appear  affected,  as  his  Umguage  certainly 
is  on  other  occasions,  but  that  he  actually  did  meet 
death  with  sufficient  fortitude,  at  the  command  of 
a  cruel  and  capricious  tyrant.  "  Death,"  he  says 
(Ep.  21.)  "  is  so  far  from  being  to  be  feared,  that 
*'  nothing  is  to  be  preferred  to  tlie  benefit  to  be  de^ 
**  rived  from  it."  Lipsius,  however,  proposes  a- 
nother  reading)  which  softens  this.  He  also  says 
(Ep.  54.)  "  We  know  what  death  is.  It  is  to  be 
*'  \vhat  we  were  before  we  ^ve^e  bom,  when  we 
*'  had  no  sense  of  t"u?7."  But  it  follows  ft-om  this 
that  neither  shall  we  have  after  death  a  sense  of  any 


OF    THE     STOICS.  255 

good.  And  this  seems  to  have  been  the  real  opi- 
nion of  all  the  later  heathen  philosophers,  not- 
withstiuiding  what  they  sometimes  say  of  the  im- 
mortality oi''  die  souh  When,  in  his  eloquent 
manner,  he  describes  the  destriietion  and  renovati- 
on of  the  world  hes:iys  (De  Cortjolatione  adMarci- 
am.  cap.  26.)  "We  also,  happy  souls,  when  it 
*'  shall  please  God  to  renew  all  things,  shall  only 
*'  be  a  small  addition  to  the  immense  ruin,  and 
*'  shall  be  changed  into  theaniient  elements." 

What  he  says  to  Marcia,  (cap.  25.)  of  her  son 
being  received  by  the  Scipio's  and  Cato's ;  See.  af- 
ter his  death,  could  only  be  said  by  way  of  accom- 
modation to  heropinioni,  and  as  a  topic  of  consola- 
tion, and  not  his  own  real  belief. 


R. 


THE 


25« 


THE 

PlilLOSOPHY 

of 
EPICURUS. 


INTRODUCTION. 

JL  he  only  sect  of  Grecian  philosophy  tliat  re- 
mains  to  be  considered,  as  coming  within  my  ob- 
ject, of  a  comparison  of  them  with  tlic  system  of 
revelation,  is  that  oi Epicurus  which  arose  present- 
ly after  that  of  the  Stoics,  to  which  it  was,  in  many 
respects,  opposite  and  hostile ;  the  one  being  re- 
markable for  its  austerity,  and  the  other  for  its  ease 
in  the  conduct  of  life ;  the  one  for  a  belief  in  a  di- 
vine pro\idcnce,  as  superintending  eveiy  thing  in 
the  world,  and  the  other  for  the  utter  neglect  and 
contempt  of  religion  in  every  form.  There  was 
also  another  source  of  opposition  and  hostility  be- 
tu-een  the  two.  All  the  philosophers  w  ho  had  pre- 
cecded  Epicurus,  the  Stoics  among  the  rest,  had 
deserted  the  plain  maxims  of  Socrates,  and  spent 

the 


bF    THE     PHILOSOPHY,  8cC.  257 

the  greatest  part  of  their  time  on  Logic  and  Meta- 
phvsicks,  of  no  use  whatever  in  the  conduct  of 
life;  whereas  Epicurus,  following  the  steps  of 
their  common  master,  held  all  their  subtle  disputa- 
tions on  these  subjects  in  the  greatest  contempt, 
and  made  the  true  enjoyment  of  life  the  great  ob- 
ject of  his  philosophy.  And  considering  that  the 
great  doctrine  of  a  future  state  was  in  fact  exclud- 
ed from  all  their  systems,  there  was  more  of  reason 
and  good  sense  indie  maxims  of  Epicurus  than  in 
theirs;  especially  as,  though  he  maintained  diat 
pleasure  was  the  great  end  of  life,  he  did  not,  as  wc 
shall  see,  mean  sensual  pleasure,  but  the  happmess 
of  man  upon  the  whole,  in  which  temperance,  and 
every  virtue,  was  an  essential  ingredient. 

Epicurus  also  differed  from  other  philosophers 
in  the  circumstances  of  his  leaching,  more  resem- 
bling a  society  of  friends,  than  that  of  master  and 
scholars.  Their  meetings  were  held  in  a  private 
garden  of  his  own  ;  and  the  friendship  of  this  fra- 
ternity Cicero  spake  of  in  the  highest  temis.  (A- 
cad.  Lib.  20.)  though  they  had  not  every  thing  in 
common,  like  the  disciples  of  Pythagoras. 

Though  we  have  no  proper  treatise  oi^  Epicu- 
rus, we  have  several  of  his  letters  preserved  by  Di- 
ogenes Laertius,  especially  one  to  Herodotus,  in 
R  2.  which^ 


Cj8  OV    the     PHILOiOrHY 

which  he  profcbscs  to  give  aii  outline  of  his  princi- 
ples. And  the  poem  of  Lucretius  contains  a  dc- 
velopcnient  oi'  the  w  'nole  of  iiis  pliilosophy.  From 
these  it  is  ea^y  to  form  a  very  complete  idea  oi  his 
tenets;  and  from  these,  and  seme  of  his  sayingy 
tjuotedby  Seneea,  the  following  account  is  given. 


Section  I* 

>0f  God  and  of  tlic  Structure  of  the  Unhcrsd. 

Fpicurus's  triumph  over  religion  in  all  its 
forms,  and  thereby  delivering  men  from  the  fear  of 
death,  Ava.s  the  great  boast  of  all  his  followers,  this 
victor}-  (Lucretius  says  Lib.  i.  V.  78.)  has  raised 
men  from  earth  to  heaAcn,  and  by  this  means  he 
has  conferred  greater  benefit  on  mankind  than  Ce- 
res in  giving  diem  bread,  or  Bacchus  in  giving 
them  wine  (lb.  Lib.  v.  V.  15.)  Religion  he  consi- 
dered as  having  done  unspeakable  mischief  to  man- 
kind, and  in  jxirticulMr  instances  the  sacrifice  of 
Iphigenia,  the  daughter  of  Agamemnon  to  Dia- 
na, of  w  hich  he  gives  a  verj-  afiecting  description* 
(Lucret.  Lib.  i.  V.  85.) 

Kpicunis  did  not,  ho\ve\er  deny  the  existence 
of  gods,  imd  though  this  is  commonly  thought  to 

have 


OF    TilE    STOICS.  259 

hn\^  been  only  ^^'ith  a  view  to  his  safety  ;  since  by 
an  open  profession  of  atheism  he  would  ha\'e  been 
exposed  ^o  the  rigour  of  the  Athenian  laws,  I  think 
he  iniglit  have  been  -/ery  sincere  in  that  opinion  ; 
tH'n];ina^,  with  all  other  philosophers,  that  every 
pir»  of  the  univci'se  was  replete  v»'ith  inhabitants, 
ctiited  to  their  natures,  the  gods  occupying  the 
higher  regions,  demons  the  middle,  and  men  the 
earth.  Wliat  lie  openly  maintained  v/as  that,  tho' 
there  ere  go^k  t\\cy  take  no  thought  about 
thj  affairs  of  thh  vrorld.  "  The  god*,"  he 
says  (Diog.  Laert.  pag.  785.)  "  are  immortal 
**  and  happy  beings  *^-*'  but  not  such  as  tlie 
*'  vulgar  opinion  makes  them  to  be;"  and  hav- 
ing said  that  happiness  is  two  fold,  he  adds  tliat 
'*'  supreme  hapj^iness  is  that  of  the  gods  A\'hlch  ad- 
"  mits  of  no  addition."  (lb  783-4.) 

The  reason  that  he  gives  for  this  opinion  is,  that 
happiness  could  not  consist  vidth  the  ti'ouble  and 
"care  which  he  thought  must  attend  the  go^'cm- 
ment  of  the  world,  though  he  seems  to  ha\c 
thought  that  they  had  something  to  do  in  the  up- 
per regions,  which  are  nearest  to  them.  Speaking 
of  the  motions,  and  other  properties  of  meteors,  lie 
says  (lb.  755.)  "  They  are  not  directed  by  any 
*'  thing  besides  tlie  ord;:r  and  appointment  of  him 

''  who 


062  or   THF.   rniT.osopHT 

*'  ^vho  has  all  happiness  and  immortality.  For  it 
'  is  inconsistent  with  haj)piuciis  to  ha\e  business, 
*'  and  cares,  or  to  be  affected  by  anger,  or  favour, 
•'  These  l^elongto  beings  subject  to  infirmity,  and 
"  fear,  who  stand  in  need  of  others."  Again  he 
says,  (lb.  735.)  "  Whoever  is  happy,  and  immor- 
**  lal,  neither  has  any  troublesome  business  him- 
"  self,  nor  gives  trouble  to  others  ;  and  in  conse- 
"  quencc  of  this  he  is  neidier  moved  by  anger 
"  or  favour." 

As  to  the  charge  of  impiety  he  says,  (lb.  786.) 
"  he  is  not  guilty  of  impiety  who  Uikes  from  the 
*'  muliiplicity  of  Gods,  but  he  who  adopts  the  opi- 
*'  nion  of  the  multitude  concerning  them,"  Lu- 
cretius ascribes  the  origin,  and  the  frightful  effects 
cf  religion  upon  the  human  mind,  in  part  to  what 
people'  see,  or  imagine  they  sec,  in  dreams,  as  well 
as  to  the  regular  course  of  the  heavenly  bodies, 
and  to  die  terror  excited  by  storms,  thunder,  light- 
ening,  earthquakes,  &c.  For  seeing  no  cause 
of  these  things,  men  ascribe  them  to  some  un- 
known invisible  beings,  whose  po\ver  was  great, 
and  tremendous.     (Lucret.  Lib.  v.  V.  1165.  &.c. 

Considering   the    vulgar   superstition,  ajid  the 
serious  eli'ccts  of  it  in  human  sacrifices,  prostituti- 
on? 


OF    THE     STOICS.  261 

ons  in  religious  rites,  divination,  and  its  distruct- 
ing  influence  in  the  common  business  of  life,  it 
may  well  be  questioned  whetlier  it  was  not  wiser, 
with  Epicurus,  to  reject  it  altogether,  than  to  re- 
tain it  in  any  form  or  degree.     Nay  I  doubt  not 
but  the  system  of  Pol}-theism   and  Idolatry  took 
more  from  the  happiness  of  mankind  than  either 
Epicurus  or   Lucretius    suspected.      Epicurus, 
however,  well  knew  that  none  of  the  philosophers 
maintained  the  vulgar  opinions,  but  much  more 
honourable  ideas  of  tlie  divinity  and  the  govern- 
ment (y.  the  worlds  opinions  highly  pleasing  to  good 
men,  and  perhaps  some  restraint  upon  the  wicked ; 
and  we  shall  see  that  his  ideas  of  the  govenuuent 
of  tlie  world,  and  the  direction  of  it,  \vhich  diffeied 
exceedingly  from  those  of  other  philosophers,  \verc 
absurd  in  the  extreme,  in  supposing  that  there  A\as 
no  wisdom,  design,  or  a  regard  to  final  causes,  in 
tilings  that  most  of  all  required  tliem. 

The  Atomical  system,  which  ^^  as  oi7j:)osed  to 
that  of  Plato,  and  most  other  philosophers,  who 
held  that  the  world  was  formed  by  an  intelligent 
principle,  out  of  pre-existent  matter,  and  that  it 
was  finite,  was  first  suggested  by  Democritus,  but 
adopted  by  Epicurus.  He  maintained  that  there 
was  no  wisdom  employed  in  the  arrangement  of 
R  4.  any 


262  or   THE    riiiLosofHY 

any  part  of  the  system,  !)ut  that  it  arose  from  the 
foiiuitous  concourse  of  atoms,  moving  at  random 
in  all  directions.  "  Tliesc  atoms"  he  says,  (Dioc^. 
Lacrt.  p.  74  1.)  "  have  no  properties  besides  those 
"of  figure, gravity  and  magnitude;  but  being 
*'  perfectly  hard,  though  of  difttrcnt  forms,  they 
"  are  incapable  of  destruction,  or  change."  The 
construction  of  the  world,  according  to  Lucretius, 
is  too  faulty  to  have  aiisen  fiom  a  principle  of  in- 
telligence anddcsign^     (Lucret.  Lib.  ii.  V.  180.) 

The  universe  having  come  into  existence  from 
these  materials,  "it  must."  Epicurus  s;,;  s  (lb. 
733.)  "  be  infinite.  For  had  there  been  any  bounds 
*'  to  it,  the  parts  of  which  it  consists  would  have 
"been  dispersed  into  infinite  space;  having  no; 
"  place  to  fix  in,  and  nothirig  to  stop  their  motion,'*^ 
n^oreo^•er,  since  the  giving  these  floating  atoms, 
every  chance  for.  their  fortunate  meeting,  so  as  to. 
form  such  a  compieie  system  as  this,  must  have  re- 
quirLti  ahnobt  infinite  time  hcibre  it  could  have 
taken  place,  he  maintained,  contrary  to  die  opinion 
of  many  other  philosophers  that  "  the  world  had  a 
"beginning,  and  will  have  an  end.  (Lib.  v.  V. 
245.)  Since  the  continual  contention,  and  dispo- 
sition to  motion,  in  the  elements  of  \\  Inch  it  con- 
sists will  in  course  of  time  efl'cct  its  compleat  dis- 
solution 


OF    THE     STOICS.  263 

solution.  He  even  thought  there  were  already 
evident  signs  of  a  tendency  to  decay  and  disso- 
lution in  the  earth,  and  that  there  has  been  a  great 
degeneracy  in  all  its  productions,  animals  being 
now  of  less  size  and  strength  than  they  were  for- 
merly, and  all  the  products  of  the  earth  requiring 
the  labour  of  man  which  they  did  not  originally, 
when  every  thing  for  the  use  of  man  was  produced 
by  it  spontaneously  (Lucret.  Lib.  ii.  V.  1150.  and 
1170.)  so  that  in  time  every  thing  will  probably 
decline  more  and  more,  and  the  a\  hole  go  to  decay 
and  ruin.  But  since  nothing  could  be  formed 
out  of  nothing,  the  atoms  of  which  it  consists  can 
only  be  dispersed  to  form  other  systems,  and  can  ne- 
ver be  annihilated  (Lucret.  Lib.  i.  V.  150.  8c21G.} 
But  before  this  event  takes  place  Epicurus  main- 
•tained  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  gradual  de- 
cay mentioned  above,  "  every  thing  is  now  as  it 
*'  ever  has  been,  and  will  continue  to  be ;  since 
there  is  nothing  into  which  it  can  be  changed,  and 
no  superior  power  to  make  a  change  in  it.  (Diog. 
Laert.  p.  732.) 

In  the  same  manner  as  this  world  was  formed, 
viz.  by  the  random  concourse  of  atoms,  since  the 
universe  has  no  bounds,  "  other  worlds,"  Epicu- 
rus says   (Diog.   Laert.  p.  735.  and  73G.)  ''have, 
115.  "no 


264  OF    THE     PHILOSOPHY 

*'  no  doubt  been  formed  in  the  same  manner;  and 
"  there  is  no  reason  w  hy  there  may  not  be  an  in- 
*'  finity  of  them,  similar  or  dissimilar  to  this. 
*'  For  the  atoms  of  which  they  are  eomposed  are 
"  infinite,  and  earried  to  the  greatest  chstances." 

Such  wild  and  absurd  schemes,  altogether  un- 
worthy of  examination  or  refutation,  may  the  most 
ingenious  of  men  be  led  to  form  for  want  of  at- 
tention to  a  few  fundamental  principles,  and  those 
of  the  most  obvious  nature.  For  what  can  be 
more  evident  than  that  there  are  infinite  marks  of 
design,  and  what  we  call  contrivance,  in  the  sti'uc- 
ture  of  the  world,  and  of  ever)-  j>lant  and  animal 
in  it.  Epicurus  must  have  maintained  that  tlie 
eye  was  not  formed  for  seeing,  nor  the  ear  for  hear, 
ing;  but  that  being  so  formed,  by  this  fortuitous 
concourse  of  atoms,  they  were  found  to  be  capa- 
ble of  these  particular  uses.  Other  philosophers, 
however,  were  not  backward  to  acknowledge  the 
reality  of  final  causes,  and  consequently  of  design 
in  the  structure  of  the  world,  and  of  every  part  of 
it,  and  it  is  certainly  unspeakably  more  satisfactory- 
to  acknowlede,  than  to  deny,  this.  W^e  have 
then  some  superior  intelligence  to  look  to,  as  a  be- 
ing to  whom  this  world,  and  ourselves  as  a  part  of 
it,  belong ;  and  who  ^^  ill  take  some  care  of  \\\mi 

witli 


OF    THE     STOICS. 


265 


With  such  exqaisite  skill,  he  has  planned  and  exe- 
cuted. 


Section  II. 

Of  the  Human  Soul. 

Since,  according  to  Epicurus,  every  thing  is  in 
U  perpetual  flux,  through  the  constant  tendency  to 
motion  in  its  primary  atoms,  it  could  not  be  sup- 
posed that  he  would,  with  many  other  philoso- 
phers, maintain  cither  the  pre-existence,  or  tiie  im- 
mortality of  the  soul.  Accordingly  he  denies,  and 
even  ridicules,  diem  both  ;  using  however  one  just 
argument,  though  he  was  little  aware  of  the  real 
nature  or  extent  of  it,  viz.  "All  thought  arises 
from  the  impression  made  on  the  bodily  senses,'* 
(Diog.  Laert.  p.  727.)  thinking  it  to  follow  from 
this,  that  the  soul,  on  which  the  impressions  wcvo. 
made,  was  equally  corporeal  with  the  objects  from 
which  they  came. 

His  principal  argument,  however,  is  that  there 
is  nothing  in  nature  besides  body  and  space ^  m 
which  bodies  can  be  placed,  and  mo^•ed.  "  There 
"  is  nothing,"  he  says  (lb.  732)  *'  but  what  can 
*'  be  handled,"  or  become  the  object  of  our  sen- 
ses. 


ilGG  or    THE     PHILOSOPHT 

ibcs.*'  "  Wc  cannot  even  form  an  idea  of  any  thinir 
**  cli;e.  Nothing,"  he  says,  (lb.  749.)  "  is  incor- 
**  poreal,*' (which  all  other  piniosophers  held  the 
soul  to  be)  "  besides  a  -cacuulii^  whidi  only  affords 
"  room  for  bodies  to  move  in."  He  adds  '*  they 
"  who  siy  that  the  soul  is  incorporeal  tilk  fool- 
y  ishh".    (at7a/a{c;<r;v)" 

The  soul,  then,  being  corporeal,  must  be  a  part 
of  the  body,  as  much  as  the  hands  or  the  feet  (Lu- 
cret.  Lib.  iii.  v.  95.)  eiich  having  their  several 
functions;  and  as  the  soul  had  no  pre-cxistencc, 
^  must  have  been  produced  at  the  same  time  w  ith 
tlie  body,  grow  up,  and  decay,  with  it.  (Lucrct. 
Lib.  iii.  v.  455.).  Being  a  body,  it  must  consist 
of  particles  of  some  particular  kind  or  form,  and 
*'  those  that  constitute  the  soul,"  he  says,  (Diog. 
Laert.  p.  747.)  "  are  the  smallest  and  rouudcst  of 
•*  all ;  but  they  must  be  dispersed  when  tlie  body 
*'  dies,  as  every  other  part  of  it  is."     (lb.  748.) 

It  is  difficult  to  form  any  clear  or  consistent  idea 
of  Epieurus's  opinion  concerning  the  different 
parts  of  the  soul,  of  their  sc\eral  functions,  and 
jplacc  in  the  body.  In  his  letter  to  Herodotus  he 
mentions  onl}-  t\\  o  parts,  one  that  has  re-.son,  and 
another   tlut   is  destitute  of  it.     "  The  rational 

**  part," 


or     THE     STCICS. 


^'  part,"  he  says»(Ib.  74.8.)  ''  rcbidcs  m  tlie  breast, 
''  as  b  iiiari'rfest  from  the  passions  of  fear  and  joy." 
But,accormng  to  Lucretius,  there  are  three,  or  c- 
ven  four  parts  in  the  soul ;  and  yet  when  he  speakai 
of  tliree  paits,  he  mentions  only  the  Animus  and 
the  Anima;  but  the  third  seems  to  be  the  breath 
which  leaves  us  when  we  die.     (Lucret.  Lib.  iii. 
V.  231.  to   245.)      Afterwaixls,  however,  lie  says 
that  diese  three  parts  are  not  suHzcient,   but  that 
<'  a  fourth  which  has  no  name  nvast  be  added,  and 
»'  this  is  the  cause  of  universal  sensation ;  though, 
"  like  the  other  parts,  it  consists  of  the  smallest  par- 
«' ticlcs  of  matter.'*     (Lucret.  Lib.  iii   V.  236.) 
That  heat  enters  into  the  composition  of  the  soul, 
appears,  he  says,      (Lucret.   Lib.    iii.    V.  290.) 
\\\\zn  we  are  angry,  and  in  the  habits  of  fierce 
animals,  as  lions,  &c.  and  that  air  is  another  part 
of  it,  appears  when  we  are  cool  arid  serene,  and  in 
the  cold  dispositions  of  the  deer,  and  tame  ani- 
mals. 

Since  the  soul,  according  to  Epicurus,  is  not 
immortal,  death  must  be  the  extinction  of  our  be- 
ing ;  and  the  dread  of  this  is  represented  by  him 
and  Lucretius  as  the  gi'eatest  of  all  evils,  and  \\  hat 
most  of  all  tends  to  embitter  human  life,  as  it  must 
to  tliose  who  have  any  enjoyment  of  it,  and  have 

nothing. 


2C8  OF    THE     PHILOSOPHY 

nothing  to  look  to  beyond  it.  "  Take  a  young- 
*'  man,"  he  says,  as  he  is  quoted  by  Seneca  (Ep. 
22.)  '*  an  old  man,  or  one  of"  middle  age,  you  will 
*'  find  them  equally  afraid  of  dying,  though  cqual- 
*' ly  ignorant,  of  life."  In  order  to  relieve  the 
mind  from  this  terror,  he  says  with  other  philoso- 
phers, (lb.  786.)  '*  Accustom  yourself  to  think 
*'  that  dcatli  is  nothing  to  us.  For  both  good  and 
"  c\il  consist  in  sensation,  and  death  is  a  privation 
"  of  all  sense."  Again  he  says,  (lb.  786.)  "  deadv 
'*  the  most  dreadful  of  all  evils,  is  nothing  to  us ; 
^'  because  while  we  live  death  is  not  present,  and 
*'  when  death  comes  we  iu-e  not."  This  poor  wit- 
ticism is  not,  however,  calculated  to  give  much 
consolation  to  a  man  who  is  sensible  of  the  approach 
of  death,  and  who  is  unwilling  to  part  with  life. 

There  are  two  sentences  of  Epicurus  concern- 
ing death,  preserved  by  Seneca,  which  have  more 
of  good  sense  in  them.  "  It  is,"  he  says  (Ep  24.) 
*'  ridiculous  to  fly  to  death  through  a  wearisorne- 
**  ness  of  life,  after  living  in  such  a  manner  as  that 
**  death  is  the  only  and  the  last  resource."  A- 
gain  (Ep.  26.)  "  Think  whether  it  is  more  desira- 
*'  ble  for  death  to  come  to  us,  or  for  us  to  go  to  it ; 
"  that  is,  since  death  will  come,  it  is  better  to  meet 

"  it 


PF    THE    STOICS.  269 

"  it  cheerfully."  But  in  vain  are  all  the  topics  of 
consolaUon  against  the  fear  of  death  to  men  who 
love  life,  and  yet  have  no  hope  of  sur\'iving  the 
grave,  and  this  hope  is  no  where  given  but  in  re- 
velation. 


Section  III. 
Of  Human  Life  and  Happiness. 

Admitting  what,  in  fact,  all  the  Grecian  philoso- 
phers did,  viz.  that  there  is  no  future  state,  the 
maxims  of  Epicurus  respecting  this  life,  and  the 
proper  objects  of  choice  in  it,  are  far  more  reason- 
able than  those  of  any  of  the  other  sects.  Sincfe 
(as  he  insinuates)  tliere  is  no  life  beyond  this,  "  It 
*'  is,"  he  says  (Diog.  Laert.  p.  758.)  "  our  bu- 
"  siness  to  make  the  most  of  the  things  that  are 
"  present,  and  exclude  all  causes  of  anxiety.  The 
"  end  of  all,"  he  says,  (lb.  788.)  "  is  to  live  well, 
"  and  happily.  For  we  do  e^'ery  thing  to  avoid 
"grief  and  perturbation."  He  therefore  adds, 
(lb.  789.)  that  "  pleasure  is  the  end  and  object  of 
"  life,  bat  not  all  kinds  of  pleasure,  For  some 
"  we  decline  because  they  are  all  attended  with 
^*  more  pahi,  and  some  pains  we  chuse  for  the  sake 

*'oC 


5270  OF     THE     PHILOSOPHY 

"  of  tlic  pleasures  that  follow  them.  Perturbali- 
"  on,"  lie  says,  (lb.  758.)  "  is  ineident  to  men  in 
*'  tills  life,  eapeeiuUy  to  those  who  dread  what,  ac- 
"  cordii'.i;  to  fabulous  aecounts,  wc  may  meet  with 
**  after  death,  as  if  there  was  any  diing  after  death. 
*'  But  I)y  living  without  perturbation  wc  live,"  he 
says,  (lb.  759.)  "as  gods  among  men."  For 
this  we  ha\ e  seen  to  be  liis  idea  of  the  state  of  the 
gods. 

It  is  probable  that  Epieurus  was  led  by  natural 
inclination  to  a  quiet  unambitious  life.  This  he 
thovight  to  be  most  favourable  to  the  true  enjov- 
ment  of  it,  and  therefore  he  recommended  it  to  o- 
thers,  and  advised  diem  to  avoid  whatever  might 
interfere  with  it.  "  A  wise  man,"  he  says  (lb. 
782.)  "  will  marry  and  have  children,  but  he  >\ill 
*' have  no  concern  in  public  affairs."  lliis  wa* 
probably  to  avoid  ever)-  jealousy  and  opposition, 
^\idi  1^11  the  unpleasant  consequences  of  them,  un- 
avoidable to  men  in  public  life.  For  it  could  not 
be  from  idleness,  in  a  man  "s\ho  MTote  so  many 
books,  and  who  employed  so  much  of  his  time  in 
the  instruction  of  others.  From  a  similar  motive 
he  might  say,  (lb.  784.)  "  A  wise  man  will  make 
•'  use  of  poems,  but  will  not  compose  any  him- 
♦'  self."     Agreeably   to  diis  he  says,   (lb.    761.) 

"  the. 


K 

or    THE    STOICS,  271 

"  the  happiness  of  life  does  not  require  viuity,  or 
**  vain  glory,"  which  he  might  think  to  be  particu- 
larly conspicuous  in  poets,  "  but  in  tranquility 
"  and  security." 

In  order  to  secure  his  favourite  tranquility,  he 
recommended  the  practice  of  universal  virtue  ;  and 
according  to  all  accounts,  his  own  life  was  v.ithout 
reproach  in  this  respect.  "  The  virtues,"  he  says, 
(lb.  795.)  "  are  chosen  for  the  sake  of  pleasure, 
*'  and  not  on  their  own  account;"  which  is  true 
when  properly  explained.  For  when  the  two  are 
compared,  happiness  appears  to  be  the  end^  and 
virtue  the  means,  though  the  necessary  means,  to 
attain  it. 

He  justly  represents  the  chief  cause  of  perturba- 
tion, and  consequently  of  unhappiness  in  general, 
to  be  wrong  dispositions  of  mind,  which  he  says  it 
is  the  business  of  philosophy  to  correct.  ''  What 
"  men  suffer,"  he  says,  (lb.  781.)  "from  hatred, 
"  envy  or  contempt,  a  man  may  overcome  by  rea- 
**  son ;  and  he  who  has  once  been  m  ise  will  not 
*'  acquire  different  habits,  or  yield  to  any  cause  of 
**  perturbation,  or  to  any  thing  else  that  may  retard 
"  his  progress  in  knowledge.  A  wise  man,"  he 
says,  (lb.  784.)  "  will  not  be  affected  if  iuiother  be 
S.  "  said 


172  OF     lllE     IMIILOSOPHY 

**  said  to  l»e  ^^  i>xr  tb.an  he."  On  tliis  account  he  rc- 
comnjcnds  an  application  to  philosophy  at  all  times 
of  life.  "  If  any  jirson  say  it  is  too  soon  or  too 
"  late  to  apply  to  philosophy,  it  is,  he  says,  tliesame 
"  th/ing  as  if  he  said  it  is  too  late  or  too  soon  to  be 
"happy."  (lb.  785.) 

The  life  of  Epicurus  Mas  according  to  all  ac- 
counts con.formable  to  his  precepts  ;  and  so  far 
was  he  or  his  disciples  from  habits  of  self-indul- 
gence, that  no  persons  lived  more  abstemiously,  on 
the  plainest  food,  and  drinking  little  besides  a\  ater. 
(lb.  713.)  V\'liat  he  himself  says  on  this  subject, 
(lb.  790.)   is  particularly  deserving  of  attention. 

V/e  consider  frugality,"  he  says,  "as  a  great 
"  good,  not  that  we  should  always  live  spaiinglv, 
"  but  that  when  we  cannot  do  otherwise,  we  may 
"  be  satisfied  with  a  little,  and  ha^•e  a  greater  en- 
"  joyment  of  abundcUice  when  we  have  it.  Plain 
*'  bread  i:nd  watci-  give  the  greatest  pleasure  when 
"they  iU"C  wanted;  and  to  accustom  oncs'selfto 
"  plain  food,  not  exquisitely  prepared,  contii- 
"  butes  both  to  health  and  activity  for  all  the  pur- 
"  poses  of  life,  and  makes  us  not  to  ditad  bad  for- 
"  tune.  When,  therefore,  we  say  that  pleasure  is 
"  the  end  of  life,  it  is  not  the  pleasure  of  the  luxu- 
<"  rious  and  the  spendthrift,  w  hich  consists  in  cat- 

"ing 


i 

OF    THE     STOICS.  273 

"  ing  and  drinking  to  excess,  wliichcome,  through 
**  ignorance  or  perverseness,  say  that  we  maintain, 
"  but  to  be  free  from  pain  of  body  and  to  enjoy 
"  tranquility  of  mind,  free  from  all  perturbation. 
*'  There  is  no  living  pleasantly  but  by  living  pru- 
*' dently,  honorably,  and  justly.  For  the  virtues 
"  are  connected  with  a  delightful  and  pleasant  life, 
*' and  cannot  be  seperated  from  ihcm."  Epicu- 
rus must  have  been  of  a  pleasant,  social,  and  bene- 
volent turn  of  mind,  to  have  attached  so  many  per- 
sons to  him  as  is  universally  acknov.  ledged  that  he 
did.  He  says,  (lb.  801.)  *'  the  most  valuable 
**  thing  in  life  is  the  acquisition  of  friendship. " 

I  shall  conclude  this  article  with  some  valuable 
sayings  of  Epicurus,  quoted  by  Seneca.  "  If  you 
''  live  according  to  nature,  you  will  never  be  poor, 
'*  but  if  you  live  according  to  the  opinion  of  others, 
"you  will  never  be  rich  (Ep.  10.)  The  man 
*'  who  lives  upon  bread  and  water  can  never  be 
"  poor  ;  and  he  who  can  confine  his  desires  to 
**  this,  may  vie  with  Jupiter  for  happiness  (Ep.  25.) 
*'  First  consider  with  whom  you  eat  and  drink  ; 
"  and  then  what  you  eat  and  drink  (Ep.  19.)  They 
**  live  ill  who  are  always  beginning  to  live." 
(Ep.  23.) 

Thus  wc  have  seen  that,  at  the  commencement 
S  2.  of 


£74  OF    THE     PHILOSOPHY 

cFour  cnqiiin-,  all  the  more  intelligent  Gixeks  re- 
tiiined  the  belief  of  the  exist/^ncc  of  one  Supreme 
B;ing,  the  mnkcrofthe  world,  and  of  all  Lliinj^s  in 
it,  though  aided  by  a  muliiplicii}'^  of  inferior  ones 
in  the  g;overnmcnt  of  it :  of  the  constant  attention 
ofthii  great  Beinr^  to  uU  Iranian  affairs,  of  his  love 
ofAartue,  and  abhorrence  of  vice,  and  of  such  an 
administration  of  the-  world,  as  that  the  wicked 
\\ill  generally  meet  with  tlieir  due  punishment,  and 
the  virtuous  \a  1th  dieir  jMoper  reward  ;  that  the 
souls  of  all  men  arc  immortal,  and  v,  ill  be  more 
fully  rewarded  or  punished,  according  to  their  de- 
fcrts,  in  a  future  state.  But  as  v^e  have  advanced, 
we  have  found  these  principles  and  motives  of  moral 
CfMxUict  grow^  more  obscure,  till  at  last  they  en- 
tire ly  vanished;  other  principles,  utterly  inconsist- 
ent with  them,  being  generally  received  ;  as  that  of 
the  derivation  of  all  human  souls  from  the  sub- 
tance  of  the  Supreme  Being,  and  their  final  ab- 
sorption into  tliC  same  source  again,  all  individual 
consciousness  being  thereby  lost.  The  last  of 
these  sects,  viz.  tliat  of  die  Epicureans,  who  disco- 
ver more  good  sense,  and  consister.cy  in  other  re- 
spects, disclaimed  all  belief  of  wisdom  and  design 
indie  construction  of  the  universe,  and  of  the  pro- 
\idcnce  of  God  in  any  of  the  aiFuii-s  of  men  at  this 

time 


OF    THE    STOICS.  2/5 

tisTie,  too,  the  last  period  of  heathen  philosophy, 
all  the  sects,  without  exception,  had  abandoned 
the  belief  of  a  future  state  of  any  kind.  And  yet, 
with  respect  to  mental  ability,  the  founders  of  these 
sects  may  be  classed  amon.g  the  first  of  the  hu- 
man race,  sagacious,  thoughtful,  and  laborious, 
in  the  extreme.  What  prospect  was  there,  then, 
of  the  world  ever  becoming  more  enliglitened  by 
human  wisdom,  and  the  experiment  was  continued 
a  sufficient  length  of  time,  from  Pythagoras  to 
Marcus  Antoninus,  a  space  of  about  seven  hun- 
dred years. 

But  what  men  could  not  do  for  themselves,  it 
pleased  God  to  do  for  them ;  and  after  giving 
much  light  to  one  particular  nation,  hi  the  fulness 
of  time  he  sent  Jesus  Clirist,  with  aijundant  evi- 
dence of  a  divine  mission  to  be  the  light  of  the 
whole  world.  His  doctrine,  in  a  reasonable  time, 
through  die  instrumentality  of  men,  to  appearance 
tlie  least  qualified  for  the  undertaking,  arid  in  spite 
of  all  opposition  from  power,  from  prejudice,  and 
from  heathen  philosophy,  establised  itseli^,  to  the 
utter  overtlirow  of  all  jDreceeding  religions,  which 
having  been  maintained  from  time  immemorial, 
and  thought  to  be  connected  with  the  well  being 
of  t\zry  state,  had  ever  been  held  the  most  sa- 
cred. 


27G  or     THE     THILOSOPHY,  ScC. 

rrccl.  At  present  no  doubt  is  enteiHiincd  l^y  any 
chrijitian  of  llic  Li  inc^  or  providence  of  God  in 
this  state,  or  of  a  ri;:^htcous  retnl)ution  in  anotlier ; 
so  thiit  nothi?ig  is  v.antinr,  no  principle  or  mothc^ 
v.hateve*',  to  the  virtue  and  happiness  of  man,  hut 
his  receiving  this  divine  light,  andilvir.g  acccrdinj^ 
to  it. 


THE  END. 


CONTENTS. 


Dedication  page  I. 

Preface  v. 

On  the  STATE  of  RELIGIOUS  and  MORAL 

PRINCIPLES  in  GREECE  before  the 

time  of  PYTHAGORAS. 

Introduction  Page  1 

Section  I.     Of  the  obligation  to  the  Worship 

of  the  Gods  i?i  general  5 

II.  Of  the  Superiority  of  Jupiter^  the 

principal  God  of  the  Greeks  8 

III.  Of  Promdence  10 

IV.  Of  Jupiter'' s  regard  to  Virtue  1 6 

V.  Of  the  Influence  of  the  Fates  20 

VI.  Of  Moral  Duties,  and  also  of 

Death  and  the  Consequences 

of  it  25 

Of  the  PHILOSOPHY  of  PYTHAGORAS. 

Introduction  28 

Section  I.     Concerning  God  31 

II.  Of  the  Structure  of  the  World  3^ 

III.  Of  the  Human  Soul  37 


CONTENTS. 

I\^  Of  Good  and  E'oUy  Firtuc  and 

yice  43 

SOCRATES  and  JESUS  COMPxVRED. 

Introduction  47 

S  E  c  T 1 0  N  I .     Of  the  Polytheism  and  Idolatry 

of  Socrates  50 

n.  The  Sentiments  of  Socrates  con- 
cerning the  Cods  and  their 
Providciice  SZ 

III.  Of  the  Excellent  Moral  Charac- 

ter of  Socrates  58 

IV.  Ofthelmperjectionof  Socrates's 

idea  concerning  Piety  and  Fir. 
tue  in  general  63 

V^.   Of  Socrates'' s  belief  in  a  future 

State  70 

VI.  Of  the  Djemon  of  Socrates  78 

\\\.  Of  the  Character  and  Teaching 
of  Socrates  covipared  'iuith 
those  of  Jesus  86 

ATII,  Of  the  different  Objects  of  the 
Instructions  of  Socrates  and  of 
Jesus  100 

IX.  Inferences  to  be  draivnfrom  the 
comparison  of  Socrates  and 
J<'siis  .  105 


CONTENTS. 

On  PLATONISM. 

Introduction  121 

Section  I.     Of  God  and  of  his  Providence  123 

IL   Of  the  Polytheism  of  Plato  135 

III.  Of  the  Human  Soul  143 

IV.  Of  Firiues  and  Vices  147 

V.  Of  Deaths  and  the  Consequences 

of  it  153 

Of  the  PHILOSOPHY  of  ARISTOTLE. 

Introduction  IGl 

Sjectign  I.     Of  the    Beings  the   Attributes, 

and  the  Promdence,  of  God     165 

II.  Of  the  Human  Soul  17G 

III,  Of  HappinesSy  and  of  Virtue 

and  Vice  179 

Of  the  STOICAL  PHILOSOPHY  of  MAR^ 
CUS  ANTONINUS  and  EPIC- 
TETUS. 

Introduction  186 

Section  I.     Of  God  and  Providence  183 

II.  Of  the  Human  Soul  197 

III.  Of  Virtue  and  Vice  204 

IV.  Of  the  various  Evils  of  Life  213 

V.  Of  Death 


CONTENTS. 

Of  the  nilLOSOPHY  gf  ARjRIAN  and 
SENECA. 

Introduction  240 

Section  I.     Of  God  and  Fro'oidaicc  211 

II.  Of  the  Soul  of  Man    and  /Vj 

Powers  2-16 

III.  Of  Moral  precepts  252 

Of  the  PlilEOSOPHY  of  EPICURUS. 

Introduction  25G 

Section  I.     Of  God  and  the  Structure  of  the 

Unherse  258 

II.  Of  the  Human  Soul  265 

III.  Of  Human  Life  and  Happiness  269 


DEDICATION. 


To  JOSHUA  TOULMLN,  D.  D. 


Dear  Sir, 

MY  having-  had  for  man}-  years  tlic  hiippiness 
of  your  acquaintance  and  friendship,  and  particular- 
ly my  ha\ing  lately  turned  my  thoughts  to  the  sub- 
ject of  one  of  your  valuable  dissertations y  have  led 
me  to  take  the  liberty  to  address  to  3  ou  tlie  follow- 
ing ^.?6V7)',  cliicfly  as  a  testimonial,  and  one  of  the 
Inst  that  I  shall  be  able  to  gi\e,  of  my  esteem  for 
your  general  principles  and  character. 

Having  here  much  leisure,  iuid  ha\ing  been  led 
to  look  bi'ck  to  some  writings  of  the  anticnts  with 
which  I  was  formerly  much  better  accjuainted  than 
I  am  now ,  and  among  others  the  Mcmorabilid  of 
Xniop/iofij  and  Plato'' s  account  of  Socrates^  it  oc- 
curred to  me  to  draw  out  on  exhibition  of  his  prin- 
ciples 


DEDICATION. 

ciplesand  conduct  from  die  words  of  those  two  ori- 
ginal writers ;  and  this  suggested  the  idea  of  draw- 
ing a  comparison  between  him  and  Jesus.  Knowing 
that  you  had  published  an  excellent  dissertation  on 
the  same  subject,  I  forbore  to  look  into  it  till  mine 
was  transcribed  for  the  press.  By  this  means  I 
was  not  biassed,  as  I  naturally  should  have  been, 
in  favour  oi^yju:-  opinion  ;  and  I  ha^'c  seldom  more 
than  a  \'ery  indistinct  recollection  of  any  ^^•ork  that 
I  have  not  very  recently  read.  On  this  second  pe- 
rusal of  your  Dissertation  I  was  as  much  pleased 
with  it  as  I  remember  I  was  at  the  first,  tliough  I 
found  that  in  some  particulai's  I  diiTer  from  you.  I 
hope  that  neither  of  us,  inattentive  as  most  persons 
now  are  to  subjects  of  this  kind,  will  have  wholly 
written  in  vain. 

I  take  this  opportunity  of  publicly  thanking  you 
for  your  many  excellent  publications  in  defence 
of  rational  Christianity.  Having  given  so  many 
specimens  of  your  ability  and  zeal  in  the  cause, 
it  is  to  you,  and  your  excellent  coadjutors,  Mr. 
Beisham,  Mr.  Kentish,  and  a  few  others,  that  the 
friends  to  the  same  cause  ^vili  naturally  look, 
whenever  particular  occasions,  occurring  on  your 
side  of  the  water,  will  appear  to  call  for  a  cham- 
pion.    My  labours  in  this  or  any  other  field  of 

exertion 


DEDICATION. 

cx'jrtif;!!  iv-c  ncarl}'  o\cr  ;  hut  it  gives  mc  much 
S'.ilinfitction  to  reflect  on  what  I  have  done  in  defence 
Oi'  wh.it  appeared  to  me  important  christian  truth. 
As  v.v  liinc  laboured,  I  hope  M'e  sliall  hereafter  re- 
joice, tcgetlier.  But  v.e  must  hold  out  to  the  end, 
v.  ithout  heing  iveary  of  well  doing,  indult^ing  no 
remission  of  labour  while  we  are  capable  of  any. 
Even  a  d\inrr  hand  has  sometimes  done  execution. 
AecordiuL;'  to  Uie  apostle  Paul,  the  whole  life  of 
evcrv  eluistiim  is  a  %varfare.  Our  enemies  are 
"Cice  and  error,  aiid  ^\ilh  them  we  must  make 
neiUier  peace  nor  truce.  Their  advocates  will  not 
make  cither  peace  or  truce  with  us. 

I  know  I  shall  not  offend  you  by  acknowledg- 
ing'', as  I  now  do,  that  I  had  a  pailiculai*  view  io  you 
ill  my  late  tract  in  favour  of  infant  baptism. 
Whatever  you  may  think  of  the  performance  itself, 
you  will  not,  I  am  confident,  think  uncandidly  of 
tlic  intention  \\\\\\  which  it  was  written.  While 
we  really  think  for  ourselves,  it  is  impossible,  in 
this  state  at  least,  but  that  we  must  often  see 
things  in  difilivnt  lights,  and  consequently  form 
different  opinions  concerning  them.  But  w  ith  the 
ingenuous  minds  which  become  ehristiiuis  this  will 
onlv  be  an  occasion  of  exercisinir  thiit  candour 

which 


DEDICATION. 

which  is  one  of  the  most  prominent  christian  vir- 
tues, in  which  I  am  persuaded  }ou  will  never  be 
defective. 

With  a  very  high  degree  of  esteem, 
lam, 

Dear  Sir, 

yours  sincerely. 

J.  PRIESTLEY. 
Northumberland  Jan.  1803. 


Though  the  Dedication  to  Dr.  Toulmin  of  tliat 
article  in  the  work  which  relates  to  Socrates  has  no 
relation  whatever  to  the  subject  of  it,  and  is  there- 
fore not  inserted  at  the  head  of  that  article  in  tliis 
publication,  my  father  wishing  to  preserve  it  as  a 
monument  of  their  friendship,  directed  me  to  have 

it  printed  at  the  end  of  the  whole  work. 

J.  P. 


.A 


